Too Little Too Late
by FujiwaraYuko
Summary: SCPD's Regan Williams is a forensic scientist working on a case linked between Starling and Central. She temporarily joins Central City's police department to figure out and conclude her assigned mystery. Along the way, she teams up with fellow scientist Barry Allen and Detective Joe West to solve a few investigations. What will happen when these two crime solvers collide?
1. Chapter 1: The Investigation

_Regan Williams_

"Captain Lance, I'll be fine," I told my superior officer as I packed some of my needed belongings at my desk in the Starling City Police Department into my satchel. "Taking on one small investigation with the CCPD is a task I think I can handle."

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow, roughing up the back of his shaved head nervously. "You definitely won't ditch the job here, right?"

I gave him a small chuckle, "Of course not. My home and heart is and will always be in Starling."

Clasping the strap of my satchel locked, I placed the messenger bag about my shoulder before giving my boss an amicable embrace.

"Come back soon. I don't think the forensics sector here at SCPD can live without you," Captain Lance gave a mocking sniffle. "In any case, figure out that case quickly and well. I doubt you'd want to embarrass us officers at Starling. Make us proud."

I smiled, "Definitely."

With that being said, I left the police department to home, where I would assemble my needed belongings before I was off to Central City.

_Barry Allen_

I rushed through the doors of the CCPD in a daze. I was late yet again.

Joe walked over to me after he finished talking to the Captain, chiding, "Really, again?"

I rubbed my forehead, apologizing, "Joe, I'm sorry . . ."

"I swear that's my name now," Joe sighed. "'Joe, I'm sorry.'"

I grimaced.

"There's a murder case we're onto and it links to a similar investigation in Starling City. The SCPD's sending one of their scientists from forensics over to help and report back to her authority. But until that scientist arrives, the police collected some skin cells at the murder site. Run it through the PCR and replicate more of the DNA, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, I hear you," I exhaled a deep breath.

Then Joe leaned in the whisper by my ear, "Are you going to Star Labs later?"

"Yeah, I am," I whispered in reply. "Gonna go out to patrol again via . . . Well, you know . . . Flash."

Joe chuckled, patting my back, "Well, then. I'll see you later."

With that being said, I jogged up the stairs to my laboratory to replicate the DNA samples collected . . . Exactly as Joe asked.

~*~~*~~~*~~~~*~*~~~~*~~~*~~*~  
_Regan Williams_

I stepped off the train with my luggage before dragging it down the port towards the exit ramp. Everything was damp and adhesive, sticking everything together through the hydrogen bonds in water. The constant and steady pitter patter of rain made the world seem like a monotone metronome. Everything seemed colorless- purely black and white.

I rushed down the pavement to the streets before glancing at my phone for the directions to the CCPD. I was scheduled to be there at 9:00 A.M. sharp, and I definitely did _not_ want to be late for my first CCPD appearance and investigation.

I sighed. This was going to be quite the hassle.

Following the directions on my phone, I managed to reach the Central City Police Department without much further ado.

I entered the glass doors and was immediately taken back by the detail in decór the CCPD elaborated at their station. Golden frames with portraits of bronze statues were adorned at the center of the foyer. Marble spanned across the walls and ceiling. It was utterly stunning.

As I gazed at the marveling structures around me, I failed to notice someone approach me.

"Hello," the man extended his hand to greet me. "The name's Joe West. I'm a detective for the CCPD. You must be Regan Williams."

I shook his hand firmly in return with a warm smile plastered across my face, "Indeed I am. Thanks for having me help out in your investigation. I'm sure it will help with the SCPD's similar case as well."

Detective West chuckled as he shook his head, "Nah, it's fine. Besides, we've only had one forsensic scientist here at Central City at a time, so it's nice to have another scientist around. I'll show you to where you'll be working. You'll be working with our forensics scientist Barry Allen. He's the best around these days, though he's always tardy."

I gave him a small smile as he led the way upstairs to the office, or should I say lab, I would be working at.

We past by several hallways before finally reaching the wooden, steel-plated double doors to a relatively messy _and_ clean (if that could even be possible) laboratory. Millions upon millions stacks of papers were filed and piled everywhere across the room, but it wasn't exactly done hastily or lazily either. They were placed appropriately and neatly, though it wasn't in rows or columns either. A shelf held many of the chemicals needed to replicate DNA samples: restriction enzymes, gel panels for gel electrophoresis, NaCl, carbon-based polymers, so forth. At one of the tables in the room, there were five PCR machines, all of which were in use.

At the far end of the room, by the glass windows sat a tall, lean, young man who was fixated at a computer screen, seemingly analyzing data from several investigations. His hair was brown, his eyes of a light gray, and he was wearing beige khakis, loafers, and a plaid shirt topped with a gray sweater. He barely seemed to notice Detective Joe and I walk in.

"Hey, Barry," Detective Joe called out the boy's name.

He seemed a bit surprised at our presence, for he fumbled from his seat to stand up and greet us properly.

"Hey, Joe," the so-called Barry gave his superior a small smile. "What's up?"

"Starling City has a similar case to the murder investigation we're having right now, so I asked the SCPD to send over someone from their forensics department to help out. We both believe that the killer is the same, but whether or not it's true depends on how your tests go, Barry. In any case, and this is Regan Williams. She's the best in forensics in Starling City, according to Captain Lance, and so she'll be helping us with our investigation. You two help each other, alright? I have some other matters to discuss with the other men downstairs."

"Yes, sir," Barry replied with a smile as Detective West headed towards the door.

Before leaving, Joe added, "Oh, and, Barry, show her around the station."

The boy gave a nod of his head before hastily cleaning up his desk.

I stood there awkwardly as I waited for him to finish whatever it was that he was doing.

After he finished jumbling his cleaning, he turned his attention to me and shoved his hands in his pockets nervously.

He then proceeded to hastily extend his hand out for me to shake, "The name's Barry Allen. I'm a forensic scientist here in Central. What's your name?"

I mentally laughed. We were re-introducing each other, even though Joe technically already introduced us to one another.

I shook his hand firmly, before answering, "Regan. Regan Williams."

He gave me a smile, "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," I replied evenly.

We stood there slightly flustered for several more minutes before I told him what I knew.

"Well, my commanding officer back in Starling gave me a folder containing what happened at the site, the autopsies of the bodies, and so forth," I began, pulling out a folder from the side pocket of my luggage.

I flipped out to a page in the folder, showing a picture of the mangled bodies at the crime scene.

"The bodies look like the people were utterly shocked before they were killed. There were no bullet holes evident at the crime scene or any wounds or scars from the victims' bodies. That is, except for one."

I flipped onto the next page to show him a picture of a small puncture wound at the necks of the victims.

"This wound was seen on all the victims. It's a rare way of murdering, though," I pursed my lips. "Bl-"

"Black widow bites," Barry finished my sentence. He crossed his arms in a thoughtful manner, seemingly absorbed in the case. "Where was the crime scene?"

"Right outside of an ex-Queen Consolidated tech building," I responded in a heartbeat. "Where was the crime scene for this one in Central?"

"Nearby Star Labs," he replied, eyes widening. "Knowing this, they were probably trying to receive information about . . . Hm . . ."

Right then, the PCR machine beeped, signaling that the DNA replication was completed.

"Can you . . ." Barry asked me before I interrupted him.

"Get my sample of DNA from Starling?" I gave him a small knowing smile. "Sure."

He gave me that flashy-white, usual smile of his and a nod of the head before rushing over to the PCR machine to extract the DNA sample.

As we were taking the DNA samples out of their carriers, I attempted some small talk, "How is working as a scientist for the CCPD, fun?"

He smiled yet again, "Yeah, it is. It's nice working with Joe, especially. He can be a handful sometimes, but it's worth it. He's the best detective out there. So . . . do you know anyone in Central?"

I chuckled softly, "Not really, no."

He raised an eyebrow, "Not really?"

I answered the impending question stuck in his mind, "Yeah, a friend of mine passed away during the particle accelerator explosion last year . . ."

Barry gave me a knowing look, before smiling, "I was hit by lightning last year via particle accelerator."

I arched a brow, "You sound like that's a good thing."

He laughed lightly, before muttering, "If only you knew."

Knowing that he probably meant for me not to hear that, I let the latter go.

"So what was the name of your friend?"

I sighed, "Well, he wasn't exactly a friend. He was just my science partner during college several times. Ronnie Raymond, if that rings any bell."

Barry's eyes widened, meaning that he knew the name, "I know him . . . Kind of."

I smiled serenely, "Well, yeah. That's the past. In any case, the sample?"

I walked over beside Barry, who was applying the DNA sample to the gel panel for electrophoresis.

Taking my sample as well, I took a dropper and dropped the DNA sample from the SCPD into one of the wells of the panel as well.

I stepped away from the panel as Barry turned on the shock switch.

"It's gonna take a bit before the DNA segments start separating," Barry muttered aloud.

"How about I show you around in the meantime?" Barry suggested, pushing himself off from leaning on the desk. "Some of the sculptures here are really breathtaking."

"Sure," I replied, slightly eager. "Lead the way."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Barry teased before exiting the laboratory to give me the official tour of the Central City Police department.

"So where are we going first?" I asked him, before jesting. "Bathroom?"

"Lavatory," he said seriously. "People always end up forgetting where it is, and it always annoys Joe when they keep pestering the same question of 'where's the bathroom?'"

I chuckled, agreeing, "Alright."

After he showed me where the bathrooms upstairs were located, he then proceeded to show me the supplies room, where the CCPD stored their chemicals, first aid materials, and other maintenance supplies.

"The firearms are in another room," Barry told me. "Down in the basement specifically. So in case any bad guys idiotically enter the CCPD . . . You know where to find it."

I nodded my head in understanding.

Barry then showed me the offices and the other fellow policemen, detectives, and captains present. It was nice meeting the CCPD policemen. They were much more kind and carefree than the SCPD.

Starling's atmosphere was always gloomy, intense, and nerve-racking. Here in Central, however, everything was . . . Less intense, more sunlight could be seen outside . . . There were no slums like the Glades. Well, at least not as much, and the crime rate in Central was one of the lowest in the nation.

On our way down to Joe's office (a particular destination Barry really wanted to pass by), we passed by one of the gold statues that decorated the CCPD.

I admired it's beauty as we passed by. What was there not to like about it? In Starling, there were no statues or beautiful sculptures and works of art. There was only office boxes next to office boxes like beehives, and that would be where we all worked. We had cadavers in the "freezer" to preserve since there were some cases when we couldn't determine the cause of death of victims on site. It was kind of creepy, to be honest. Working in the same building as dead bodies were stored . . . It wasn't exactly the nicest thought in mind.

"Nice, huh?" Barry smiled knowingly at bother and the sculpture. "When I visited Starling, the police department there looked pretty dull. No offense."

I chuckled, "None taken. What were you there for?"

"Oh," Barry tarried. "Um, an investigation."

I arched an eyebrow, "How come I've never seen you around before?"

He coughed nervously, "It was classified information."

I stared at him blankly, knowing that he was lying, but decided it was better to ignore it.

Once we reached over to Joe's office, we saw Joe working tediously at his desk, scribbling words down on several papers- probably reports.

"Hey, Joe," Barry knocked in the frame of the already open door. "What's up?"

Joe looked up from his desk with a grim face before breaking out into a smile.

"Why, hello there Ms. Wilson," Joe smiled warmly as he stood up. "I trust that Barry here has been kind to you."

The said man gave a pointed look towards Barry.

"He's been really kind in giving me a tour around the department and some insight as well," I smiled in return. "He was no trouble at all, Detective West."

Joe then walked over to the side of his desk, saying, "No, no. Please. Just call me Joe."

Barry seemed to notice that I was hesitant that my manners would seem out of place, so he added, "Everyone here calls my old 'Joe,' so there's absolutely no need to feel out of place."

With that being said, I offered, "Then I would like for you to call me simply as 'Regan.'"

Joe grinned, "You have yourself a deal, Regan."

"So . . ." Barry joked, for he already knew the answer to the question. "Does that offer apply to me as well?"

An edge of my mouth curved up in a half-smirk, "I think you already know the answer to that one, Barry. Of course you can."

He glanced at the watch on his wrist before saying, "The electrophoresis process must be done by now. How about we head upstairs, finish analyzing, type up the work, and then head out for lunch?"

Joe remarked, "Go to CC Jitters. It's the best place to grab a bite here in Central."

Barry gave his boss a pointed look, "You know, you're just saying that because Iris works there, right?"

The two men in the room must have noticed my confusion before Barry added, "Joe's daughter. She's a good friend of mine. She works by there sometimes when she doesn't have work at the reporters' office."

"I see," I commented, before glancing at my own watch. "Want to try to finish before 12:30? That'll give us about two and a half hours until then."

"Sure," Barry flashed me a smile. "You want to join us later, Joe?"

Joe shook his head, a smile still plastered across his face, "Nah, I'm good. Maybe next time. I still have a lot of paperwork to do before I can go anywhere. Well, see you around."

Barry simply gave Joe a nod of the head before heading back out the door.

"See you around, Joe," I bid my farewell before tagging behind Barry.

As we walked upstairs, Barry rambled, "Just a footnote, but the sculptures here were actually commissioned from the art museum here. Pretty interesting, if you ask me. Since they've been here with the CCPD since the beginning, we eventually forgot where and when they were made. So, during my spare time, I researched some stuff about art and eventually came across the records of where and when the art sculptures were made. Fun times . . ."

I mentally noted how observant Barry was. No wonder he was the only needed forensics man at Central City. He alone was the one-man job.

Once we reached the lab, Barry and I immediately headed over to the electrophoresis panel to see whether or not the DNA segments separated or not.

"Well," Barry muttered, eyeing the gel panel as he put on his lab gloves and goggles. "That's done. Can you get the camera on the shelf behind you? Oh, and, there's an extra set of goggles and gloves on the shelf there too."

"On it," I replied in a heartbeat as I headed over to the shelf to first put on my gloves and goggles before getting the camera.

Once I got back, I snapped several pictures of the board for police cross-reference.

"I'll go and scan this onto the computer and send it to Joe. Why don't you analyze the DNA."

I simply nodded my head before adjusting my goggles one last time. The two DNA fingerprints were one of the same. That was for sure and a given. The segments matches each other perfectly and therefore, it meant that the the killer was the same person. But who would travel to and from Starling and Central just for science, unless, of course, it meant that the suspect wanted something from the sites. Nothing was reported stolen from Starling. The only thing damaged there was three gun shots at a now damaged computer screen. Three rounds . . .

"It's going to take another four hours before the DNA scans can process the DNA of who this is," Barry informed me with a heard exhale. "In the meantime, we can work on the papers due from the DNA scan. How about I work on the PCR process and forms, and you work on the electrophoresis portion of the investigation and the research papers? That alright wig you?"

"Sure," I gave him a small smile. "I'll work on it right now."

_Three hours later . . ._

_"_Gosh, I'm hungry," Barry sighed, leaning back against his rolling chair.

"Well," I forced back a smile. "Are you done yet?""

"Still need several more lines," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, "Well, then, flipping finish it, Mr. Allen."

He shrugged, now twiddling his thumbs, "They don't exactly need it by today."

I sighed as I typed up the last bits of my papers and sent them to the printer here in the lab, "I'll help you finish then."

Barry teased praising the heavens, "Thank you, Mother Earth."

I laughed as I walked over to his station, "Funny, Barry. Really funny."

Sarcasm dripped from my very words.

After we finished both Barry's and my papers, we quickly printed them out before heading down to Joe's office to hand them to him.

After that was completed, Barry and I decided to go over to Jitters for lunch before returning back to the CCPD to finish cross-referencing whose fingerprint/DNA the sample belonged to.

"Ready?" Barry asked me as he slid on his coat and grabbing an umbrella, since it was still raining.

"As I'll ever be," I chuckled, quoting something epic, as I too put on my petticoat and beanie into place.

Barry gave me a 'discerning' look, before opening the steel-played doors of the lab.

As we both exited, he started going down the stairs before turning back to extend his hand to mine. Slightly flustered, it took me a nanosecond before I reached out and clasped my hand against his.

He smiled, dragging me down so that I was on the same step as him before sliding an arm around my waist.

I blushed the lightest shade of coral.

If anything at all, this gesture was something I wouldn't and couldn't forget. Besides . . . Who even could?


	2. Chapter 2: Still At the Start

_Barry Allen_

"So, do you know anyone in Starling?" Regan asked as we walked down the puddled pavements of Central on our way to CC Jitters for lunch.

I smiled thoughtfully, "Yeah, I know a few people."

She raised an eyebrow before asking, "Who?"

I pursed my lips, not wanting to seem condescending, "Felicity Smoak, John Diggle, and Oliver Queen."

She simply laughed, "No offense, but you, of all people, know the flipping Oliver Queen and co.?"

I shrugged, "Well, yeah, I knew him from my investigation in Starling a while ago."

She seemed to ponder about what I just said, "Is that why I've never seen you at the SCPD? You were working in a case in Starling with the Queens?"

I sighed, knowing that I had revealed too much information, "Yes and no."

She exhaled a breath, probably realizing that I wouldn't break to tell her the classified information.

Simply put, Oliver was the Arrow, and he didn't exactly want anyone to know about him being the vigilante and so forth.

Once we reached Jitters, I opened the door for Regan, and we took our seats by one of the windows.

Before long, a waitress came by and took our orders.

"Hi, what can I do for you today?" She smiled warmly at me. "The usual?"

Slightly abashed that she memorized my usual order, I replied, "Yes, Please. Thanks."

"How about you, Miss?"

"Um," Regan pondered for several moments as she looked through the menu. "The spicy chicken sandwich, please. Thank you."

The waitress then smiled at the both of us, collecting our menus, before she left to the kitchen.

Regan looked at me playfully, "She memorized your order?"

I scratched the back of my head in an embarrassed manner, "I come here a lot."

The very same look was still plastered across her face, "Who's the lucky someone?"

"No, no, no," I waved my hands about nervously. "There's absolutely no one."

"M-hm," she eyed me with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes at her reaction, before asking her in return, "How about you?"

She laughed, "I haven't really dated yet to answer that question."

I raised an eyebrow, "You haven't dated yet?"

She shook her head lightly, "No, not really. Why, have you?"

I scoffed, "Yeah. Why would you think I haven't?"

She shrugged, "You never know."

There was a small silence between us as the restaurant's background music was heard. It was playing a soft, lenient staccato melody as the accompaniment played graceful scales. It created a satisfying atmosphere for a café- to both eat, drink, and talk.

"So," Regan tarried as we were still waiting for our food to arrive.

I raised my head to her as I crossed my arms against the circular, white table- my attention now spanning only to her instead of blankly at the scratching marks on the table.

"I forgot to buy a drink, so I'll do that now," she flashed me a small smile, feeling the awkward tension. "If you'll excuse me."

I simply nodded my head as I watched her cue in line to buy a drink. Soon afterwards, once Regan was halfway through the line, my phone buzzed in my pocket, signaling a text message had been delivered to me.

_Message from: Iris West_

_Hey, Barry._

_My shift at the CC Picture News just ended, want to grab something to eat at Jitters?_

_Sent at 12:03 P.M._

_Message to: Iris West_

_I'm already at Jitters with a co-worker._

_Meet up here if you want._

_Sent at 12:04 P.M._

_Message from: Iris West_

_OMG, you dummy!_

_Who are you with?_

_Is it Felicity?_

_Why didn't you tell me she was in town?_

_Trivia night was sooo fun with her, you, and Eddie._

_We should _totally_ double date again next time!_

_Sent at 12:05 P.M._

I deadpanned at Iris' sudden conclusions. She was _always_ jumping at what she thought happened without a second thought. It was, at times, reckless . . . but this _was_ Iris West we were talking about.

_Message to: Iris West_

_First of all, no, my co-worker isn't Felicity._

_I would have told you if she was in town._

_Not all my co-workers are girls, you know._

_Sent at 12:06 P.M._

I chuckled with a silly, embarrassed smile plastered across my face. Iris was always the one who managed to crack me a flustered smile. That was just the way things were. Iris and I . . . We were best friends. Nothing more and nothing less. When my mother died and my dad was sent to jail for the supposed murder, I was devastated, but something brightened up my day afterwards. I got to live with my elementary crush- Iris. Since then, I was never down, but I never managed to tell her how I really felt either.

It was so complicated. One moment I would feel like I would never have a chance with Iris, and hte next, I would feel as if I had it all. She would lead me on, and then let me go. And then after I was struck by lightning and woke up from my coma, everything tumbled down. Iris was now with Eddie, and I was suddenly a superhero. I was a hopeless romantic . . . Okay, I'm not romantic at all, but that's [not] the point.

As I was pondering about my unsuccessful love life, I failed to notice Regan return with two drinks in her hands.

"I got you a cup of coffee," she told me, placing the drink in front of me. "I didn't know whether or not you preferred coffee or tea, so I just got you coffee."

I shook my head lightly, "You shouldn't have."

She laughed, "But I did, so live with it."

"How do you like Central so far?" I asked her after I took a sip of the coffee.

Regan chuckled, "Considering the fact that I've only been here for three to four hours . . . Not bad."

I grinned, "Miss Starling?"

She replied, shrugging, "Somewhat, but, surprisingly, not really."

I arched an eyebrow, "You don't miss your hometown at all? That's a first."

Groaning, Regan deadpanned, "Trust me, Starling City is one of the gloomiest places on earth, if not the gloomiest. Central City has little to none crimes, _actual_ sunlight . . . and you can _actually_ see the flipping sky! At Starling . . . pft. There's literally no sky to even see."

I laughed, flashing my white teeth, "That's so true! Central _does_ have a brighter and more positie atmosphere than Starling, I must admit."

We both stared at each other in the eyes before quickly looking away. I shuffled my feet as I waited for the waitress to present our lunch. But I wasn't hungry. I felt weird. _Much_ weirder than normal.

Before long, the waitress came by and handed us our dishes, "Here you go. Sorry for the wait. One of our ovens wasn't working . . . In any case, three plates of Smoked Ham Club Sandwiches for Mr. Allen, and the Spicy Chicken Sandwich for you, Miss."

I smiled, "Thanks . . ." I eyed at her nametag. "Maria."

Regan nodded her head, "Thank you."

"No problem," Maria smiled before dashing off behind the counter to help out with the coffee line.

I took another sip of my coffee before diving into my sandwiches.

Regan snorted at my hogging down my sandwich, "You're going to choke, and I doubt you'd want someone doing the Heimlich maneuver on you. It's much more painful than it looks. And why did you buy so much food?"

I stifled a laugh, "What can I say? I have a large apetite."

She eyed me warily, "I still highly doubt that someone can eat _that_ much, Mr. Allen."

I rolled my eyes, "Well, I'm unique."

This time, it was Regan who was stifling a laugh, "That's sure a light way of putting it."

I simply chuckled at her reaction, and several seconds of silence followed thereafter.

"So does anything interest you here in Central City?" I asked her, sparking yet another segment of conversation.

She chuckled, "Not that I really believe it yet . . . but I've heard something called the Streak, saving people's lives from day to day. If the Streak is real, I'd like to meet him. But, you know what I think?"

I shifted in my seat unnervingly, "Sure."

This conversation was _not_ going as I planned. I remembered the time when I was in Starling for the first time and was with Felicity. I had told her who I thought the Arrow was and what kind of accomplices he had. Now, I felt like I was stuck in the _exact_ situation as Felicity was. Except, now, _I_ was the vigilante, and Regan was talking about _me- _the Flash.

"_If_ he's real, then I think he wears red because the fabric is a reinforced tri-polymer and is heat and abrasive resistant, organically designed to replace firefighter suits, since his supernatural speed is over the charts, probably ranging from zero to eight-hundred miles per hour."

I drank my coffee, shielding my nervousness with the cup. No wonder she was in forensics . . . She noticed the little details of every scenario like I did.

"Any other theories?" I asked her, suppressing a smile but still drinking my coffee.

She broke out in a smile, "Yeah, definitely."

"Like what?" I inquired as I put down my coffee cup.

"I think he has accomplices," she smiled. "Geniuses, in fact. I think they're experts in bio-engineering, mechanical engineering, anatomy, and forensics. I had this thought that maybe, since there is supposedly someone who is good at forensics on the vigilante's team, that- just maybe- one of the police officers here at the CCPD could be working with the Flash. Of course, it's a long shot, but that's what I think."

I, again, suppressed a smile, "If you think that one person on the vigilante's team specializes in forensics, how come you don't think it's me?"

She chuckled, "You run late often. I kind of doubt that the Flash would be late, thanks to his super speed."

I mentally noted to run late to everything not so important from now on. It was a small action that misguided everyone into thinking that I was the Flash.

"Is that all?" I asked her before shoving the last bits of my last sandwich into my mouth.

Regan muttered, "I _still _don't understand how on earth you can eat so much, and that leads to my next point. I think the Flash has a constant need to consume high levels of carbohydrates. Otherwise, he'd constantly faint from malnutrition."

I nearly choked on the last bits of the sandwich I was eating. Damn was she accurate.

I then proceeded to ask, "You don't like the Arrow?"

She shrugged, "I have my suspicions, none of which I can be sure of though."

I chuckled, "Trust me. I know what you're talking about. I used to be _obsessed_ with the Arrow . . . Until I realized that he was a pretty bad guy."

Mentally, I was smacking myself on my forehead. I was badmouthing one of my close friends- Oliver Queen, a.k.a. the Arrow. Alongside Felicity Smoak, John Diggle, and Roy Harper, he saved the city from all sorts of evil, though his circumstances of "protecting" was much more brutal. Sometimes, he would torture information out of suspects, all of whom were wrongdoers, but it was still pretty cruel. I worked alongside him once. Even though it was one of the best moments of my life, it was also one of my worst. Oliver and I made a deal that I would do things _his_ way. Little did I know how torturing it was to even _watch_ him torture others into giving him information. Ultimately, Oliver realized his ways were somewhat (you have to admit that, now, he's conscientious about it) wrong and changed for the better.

Either way, that was then, and this was now.

Regan looked at me, "You think he's bad?"

"Not necessarily _bad_ bad, but pretty close to it. I mean, he does good things, but the way he does it- torture- that's just outright cruel."

She exhaled a breath audibly, "That's a shame. I've always thought that he did for the better of the people, though I have to admit that shoving an arrow down someone's hand for information is somewhat outright cruel."

I chugged down the last bits of my coffee before returning my attention to her.

"Think the facial analysis is done yet?" I asked for her opinion.

She glanced at her watch before responding, "Yeah. I think so. We've been here for roughly an hour, so . . . Yes, I believe the process is complete."

The moment I noticed Regan pulling out her wallet to leave a tip for the waitress and pay for our meal, I stopped her in her tracks by gripping her hand- firmly, yet gently.

"I leave the tip," I stared straight into her eyes. "And pay for the meal."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "Are you sure? We can split the bill if you'd like."

I shook my head, trying to hide my smile to sound serious in front of her, "No, you already bought me coffee. Now it's time for me to pay for once. Let me a gentleman for once, Regan."

She hesitated, "Alright, if you say so."

"And I _do_," I chuckled, before heading to the counter to pay.

_Regan Williams_

I mentallyslapped myself for letting Barry pay. I didn't want to seem helpless, and I _definitely_ didn't want to owe anyone anything. He did have a point, though. I _did_ already pay for our coffee, and he _did_ have a right to be a gentleman for once, though he already was. Barry was kind, thoughtful, smart, clever, and, not to mention, _adorable_. He was the essence of the typical cute guy in the universe . . . Well, at least in my eyes.

I mentally slapped myself again. Why was I even thinking of such things? After all, I had only known him for several hours, and I was repressing the SCPD. Any relationship would degrade my commanding officer, and, trust me, you do _not_ want to get on Lance's bad side. The link between Barry and I should be strictly professional- nothing more and nothing less.

Once Barry finished paying, we both slid on our coats before heading outside. Under the lean, Barry puffed out his umbrella and took my arm in his so that we could both stay dry. The small gesture made my inner teenage self scream out "omg I think I like him!"

For the third time that day, I mentally slapped myself yet again.

"Are you excited to see the results?" Barry asked me on our way back to the CCPD.

"Considering that it's the chief reason why I'm here," I tarried. "I suppose so."

Barry chuckled at my response, flashing me his white teeth, "Funny, Regan. Funny."

I smiled, "That's what I live for . . . Well, in a literal sense, anyways."

Before long, we reached our destination, and quickly headed into him the building to avoid the downpour.

After stomping our feet against the mat, Barry and I scurried upstairs to see the test results as we shrugged off our coats.

We rammed the steel-plated doors wide open, not even bothering to close them, before rushing straight to computer, which was ringing nonstop that it had found a match.

Barry quickly typed in the password before clicking on the facial recognition application. A window popped up with the suspect's image, name, and personal information in bold and italics.

Barry's eyes widened once he read the name in a whisper, "Leonard Snart."

I scrutinized at the name, "Who's he?"

Barry quickly re-put on his cloak again, "I think this is a job for the higher-up authorities. Stay quiet about this one, will you? This guy's dangerous._ Really_ dangerous."

Concerned, I asked him quickly, "Why? Leonard Snart has a pretty bad criminal record, but even _that's_ not enough to be so racked up about."

"Oh, boy," I heard him mutter, though he probably didn't intend for me to hear. "If only you knew."

"Um," I looked at him weirdly. "Okay. I guess I'll check into my hotel, then."

Barry replied distractedly as he struggled to button up his coat, "Um, yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow," I muttered. "See you."

However, he didn't hear me say goodbye. He was already out the door.


	3. Chapter 3: Captain Crunch

_Regan Williams_

Once I had checked into my hotel room, the first thing I did was crash myself onto the bed. I was beyond tired, confused, and a literal mess. So many thoughts were jumbled up in my mind. Why was Leonard such a big threat? Higher-up authorities? Fishy, because the only higher-up authority at the CCPD was the Captain. And he wasn't back from a meeting in Fawcett City yet.

I chuckled. I probably sounded like a stalker when, in fact, I simply did my research on where I was headed before actually going over. Who would want to enter a city with no information or data about it? The Glades in Starling were always the biggest factor in the "Bad Things about Starling" list. People were mugged, murdered, and raped there the most. It was the slums of Starling, but also its source of life. Not many people could afford houses in the good side of town, so they would reside in the Glades for cheaper rent and dues.

I once knew a good lawyer who used to work in the Glades, but, after the Quake, she began working for the state attorney, since her own office was broken down to pieces . . . And not to mention the fact that her very own boyfriend died there as well.

Despite my mind racing through multiple thoughts in my head, all of them led to the same question. Who really was Leonard Snart, and why was Barry lying? Let's be honest on one thing: Barry can't lie for his life.

After another few moments of lounging and resting on the bed, I sat up, opened my sole luggage case, changed into pajamas (a.k.a. black Nike shorts and a bright red t-shirt), and then finally sat down at the room's desk.

The room was modeled in a modern style- light beige wood frames and cabinets, a landscape portrait of a wheat field above the bed mast, white-duvet sheets and pillows, and a beige-tiled floor. There were lamps posted on the wall beside both sides of the bed.

As I tugged on my gray ankle socks, I hopped over to my luggage case once again- this time, to retrieve my laptop.

Something was eerie about how Barry tried to cover up whoever Leonard Snart was, and I was going to find out why.

_Barry Allen_

I rushed out of the CCPD laboratory in a flash (no pun intended) and headed straight to Joe's office.

He was talking to a fellow senior officer, both looking dismantled the moment I barged in. Talk about awkward.

Joe kept gawking at me as he quickly drummed the desk twice before dismissing the senior officer in the room, "I'll have to see you later, Thomas. I need to talk to Barry right now."

The man glanced between the gawking Joe and the edgy me. He must have sensed something was wrong because he quickly dashed out of the room.

"Barry," Joe snapped for my attention. "What's wrong, boy? I was in a meeting?"

I fumbled my hands about- clasping them and folding them together several times before finally resting them in my front pockets.

I stumbled to find the right words to say, "Snart's back. He was the one who killed the victims in Starling and Central."

This time, it was Joe who was fumbling his hands.

"He's back?" he swallowed. "Y-you're sure?"

The last sentence sounded more declarative than it was a question.

"Positive," I replied, pacing back and forth.

Joe took in a deep breath, stroking his chin, "Then why didn't he kill them with his freeze gun? Why, according to the papers you gave me, the widow bites?"

"I don't know," I sighed, frustration gradually increasing. "I just don't. At least not right now."

Joe gave me a look, "Then what are you waiting for, Barry? Get your ass over to S.T.A.R. Labs."

I ran my hand through my hair for a moment to let the fact that Snart was out there murdering people sink in before I bolted for S.T.A.R. Labs, leaving nothing behind but the spontaneous gust of wind that trailed behind me- flying the papers in all of the CCPD to a large mess.

_Regan Williams_

The moment I logged onto my laptop, I began activating one of my hacktivist applications on my hard drive. What can I say? I was a computer science major before I realized that I didn't like computer sciences as much as I thought I did (hence why I was now in forensics).

My feet drummed a steady rhythm as I waited for my hacking application to load. I stretched my fingers in anticipation before stroking my medium-lengthed, dark brown hair into a sleek ponytail.

_Ding ding._

The application had finished loading. A grim expression soon masked my face as I quickly set to work.

"Leonard Snart," I muttered aloud as I typed the name in the search engine of the application.

The screen was of a light, melancholy cerulean with a pitch-black background. There were a few tech-appearing images that were faded against the blue background, but, otherwise, it looked like any other app out there.

Files upon files began popping up in the search results. I quickly typed in several stanzas in code before all the criminal papers and redacted files from all over the world's Internet and databases.

I then began reading the first file that appeared on screen.

_Leonard Snart_

_Age 31_

_Charged with: World-Class Thievery, Murder_

_Rank: Central City's Most Wanted Criminal_

_Kills (21): Johnny Silvers of CCPD_

_Avery Wilson of CCPD_

_Mary Lanier of SCPD_

_David McHalloghan of SCPD_

_Timothy Moran of FCPD_

_Basil Nurblin (criminal)_

_Mason Nye (accomplice)_

_Jason Nye (accomplice)_

_Benjamin Smith (civilian)_

_Nancy Jake (civilian)_

_11 more . . ._

_Stolen:_

_Crowned Jewels of the Kingdom of Aksum_

_Painting on the Wall of England . . ._

And the list went on and on. I scrolled down, comprehending that many of the people he killed were in Central City at the time. Everything seemed normal about Snart . . . for a criminal, anyways.

That was until I stumbled across something abnormal. Many of the people he killed were murdered in the summer, spring, or fall nights- none of them were killed in winter . . . So how come the autopsies said that all of them were frozen to death? Frozen? To death? How could someone do that? Unless, of course, they had an actual human freezer room . . . That just wasn't . . . outright plausible. The cause of death was frostbite. What kind of death was that? If that were the case, how could he murder them with _frostbite?_ He didn't have powers. Jeez, _no_ one did. The last time I believed in fairy tales was when I was in fifth grade. But, there was something about him that _made_ me want to believe that magic was real . . . That _superpowers_ were real.

I snapped out of my thoughts.

_"Get yourself together, Regan," _I mentally chided myself. _"Supernatural powers aren't real. Get over yourself. No one can die like that. There's no such thing as a Streak, and there's no such thing as a guy who can freeze people to death."_

Before long, I was back in tune with reality and began zipping through other files from local authorities, federal bureaus, national databases, and other, international redacted files. However, they all stated the same thing. Snart was a thief and murderer. It was always that.

Once I came to the last available file, I clicked on it, and it opened a document. My eyes scrutinized at papers. It was written in Morse Code.

-.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -. / - .. ... ... .. -. -. .-.-.-

Cold gun missing.

-.-. .. ... -.-. - / - -. / - .-. .- -.-. -.-

Cisco on track.

.-. . -.. / - -. / .-. ..- -.

Red on run.

... -. - .- / ... . .- .-. -.-. ... .. -. -.

Snow searching.

.- . .-.. .-.. ... / -... .- -.-. -.- / ..- .-.

Wells back up.

... -. .- .-. - / .-. - ... ... . ... ... . ... / -.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -.

Snart possesses cold gun.

\- .-. .- -.-. -.- .. -. -. / -. ..- -. / - - / -. .-. ...

Tracking gun with GPS.

... -. .- .-. - / . -.- ..- .- .-.. ... / .. -. - . .-. -. .- - .. - -. .- .-.. / -.-. .-. .. - .. -. .- .-.. / ..-. - .-. / - ... .. . ...- . .-. -.- / .- -. -.. / - ..- .-. -.. . .-. .-.-.-

Snart equals international criminal for thievery and murder.

... - - .-.. . / -.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -.

Stole cold gun.

... - - .-.. . / -.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -.

GPS location found.

... - - .-.. . / -.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -.

Snart got away.

... -. .- .-. - / .-. . .- .-. .-. . .- .-. . -.. / .- .. - ... / ... . .- - / .- .- ...- .

Snart reappeared with Heat Wave.

... . .- - / .- .- ...- . / . -.- ..- .- .-.. ... / .- .-. ... - -. .. ... -

Heat Wave equals arsonist.

... -. .- .-. - / -.-. .- .-. - ..- .-. . -..

Snart captured.

.-. . -.. / - -. / - .-. .- -.-. -.-

Red on track.

... .-. . . -.. / ... .. -. ...

Speed high.

... . .- - / .- .- ...- . / -.-. .- .-. - ..- .-. . -..

Heat Wave captured.

-.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -. / .-.. - -.-. -.- . -..

Cold gun locked.

-.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -. / . -.- ..- .- .-.. ... / - .- -.-. ... .. -. . / -... -.- / -.-. .. ... -.-. - / - - / - .- -.- . / -.. - .- -. / .-. . -.. / .. -. / -.-. .- ... . / ... . / .. ... / .-. ... -.- -.-. ... - .-. .- - ... .-.-.-

Cold gun equals machine by Cisco to take down Red in case he is psychopath.

-.-. - .-.. -.. / -. ..- -. / .-. . .- -.-. ... . ... / -.. . .-. - / -.. . -. .-. . . ... / -.- . .-.. ...- .. -. .-.-.-

Cold gun reaches zero degrees Kelvin.

.- -... ... - .-.. ..- - . / -.. . .-. -

Absolute zero.

... -. .- .-. - / ..- ... . -.. / - - / ..-. .-. . . -.. . / .-. . - .-. .-.. . / - - / -.. . .- - ... / -.-.- / - .- ... - -. / -. -.- . -..- / .- .- ... - -. / -. -.- . -..- / .- ...- . .-. -.- / .- .. .-.. ... - -. -..- / .- - ... -. -. -.- / ... .. .-.. ...- . .-. ... -..- / . - -.-. .-.-.- -.-.-

Snart used to freeze people to death ( Mason Nye, Jason Nye, Avery Wilson, Johnny Silvers, etc.)

.-. . -.. .- -.-. - . -.. / ..-. .. .-.. . / - ..-. / ... - .- .-. / .-.. .- -... ... .-.-.- / - ..- - ... .. -.. . / ..- ... .- -. . / .-. .-. - ... .. -... .. - . -.. .-.-.-

Redacted File of S.T.A.R. Labs. Outside usage prohibited.

_Barry Allen_

"What?" Cisco shouted in frustration. "I thought the damned guy was in jail!"

I sighed, scratching the back of my head, "Apparently, he did, though. Escape from jail, I mean."

Caitlin sighed, stressed, "This has got to be the _worst_ way to start the day."

Cisco gave his co-worker a 'really?' look before remarking, "It's flipping 1:00 in the afternoon, and you've been here at S.T.A.R. Labs since eight A.M. And you're telling me you're just _starting_ your day? Hello, Caitlin! Welcome to reality!"

Dr. Wells and I exchanged glances, "concerned" for the welfare of both engineers.

"Now, now," Dr. Wells chuckled. "We don't want to start a fight, now don't we?"

I crossed my arms, leaning against one of the desks in the room, with a suppressed smile plastered across my face, "Guys, Snart?"

Cisco flicked himself on the forehead before 'returning' to reality, "Sorry, my bad."

I stifled a laugh before walking over to the semicircle of computers, where both Cisco and Caitlin were.

"But he doesn't even have the cold gun anymore. We have it," Caitlin pointed out. "How did he manage to murder a police officer in both Starling and Central?"

Dr. Wells stroked his chin, forehead creasing, "That's a good question. It would either be that he resorted to a different method of killing, or he went and called some of his accomplices, like last time."

Cisco grimaced, "Like Heat Wave?"

Dr. Wells gave him a nod.

"How did he murder them?" Caitlin asked as she logged into one of the computers.

I shrugged, "It's such an odd way of killing. Black Widow bites."

Caitlin shuddered, "Okay, that is _so_ not creepy."

Cisco stood up from his leaning position at the computer desk, his eyes furrowed, "Was that sarcasm? Or . . ."

Caitlin deadpanned, "What do you think, Cisco? You're a genius. Get your game on."

Cisco raised his hands up in defense, "Whatever you say, Caitlin."

Dr. Wells cleared his throat, "How about we get back on track with finding Snart."

I sighed, crossing my arms, "Couldn't have said it better."

Cisco took a breather before becoming serious, "Okay, so we literally have no way of tracking Snart, unless he still uses his ID for transportation, which, if he does, would trigger a wireless alarm to the police to arrest him. And since I forgot to place a tracker on him the last time he and Heat Wave were here . . . Let's just say that there's no other way to find him."

"Couldn't we use facial recognition software to find him?" I asked, eye furrowing.

"I _would_, if I _could_," Cisco sighed. "The damn guy's literally off the radar!"

A silence engulfed the room thereafter. Dr. Wells was deep in thought. Caitlin was scanning through the facial recognition software again and again. Cisco, leaning against the computer desk, was tapping his fingers against the piece of furniture. I stared at the gray floor, grimacing as every possibility of finding Snart was slowly disappearing.

I ran my fingers through my hair, before stating, "How about I have a look around Central? If the murder was yesterday, then he should still be around here. Keep searching while I do patrol."

Dr. Wells narrowed his eyes, not wanting me to leave, "Barry, are you sure? We need you here."

I nodded my head, "Yeah, I can, hopefully, gather intel on the streets, while the rest of you can gather intel via computers."

Wells paused for a moment before agreeing, "Alright. Your choice."

I flashed him a quick smile before changing into my suit and rushing out of S.T.A.R. Labs All of which, took just a second.

_Regan Williams_

I slouched back against my chair. Snart possessed a gun that could freeze people at absolute zero, killing his victims in the process. But if that was possible, then the gun also had to outlet the opposite heat of absolute zero- absolute heat.

I bit my lip. This was so surreal. All the sciences that the world thought was impossible to reach was all real and happening at a laboratory in town- S.T.A.R. Labs. I furrowed my eyebrows. That made no sense.

After several moments of pondering of what I should do next, I decided to hack into S.T.A.R. Labs to retrieve information concerning Leonard Snart and whoever he was.

Once I look up S.T.A.R. Labs in my software's search engine, I began typing several lines in code before about twenty files relating to Snart popped up on screen.

I began zipping through the documents before something jaw-dropping made me freeze on the spot.

_S.T.A.R. Labs Redacted File_

_Metahumans are individuals who have acquired superhuman abilities after surviving the explosion caused by the malfunction of the S.T.A.R. Labs particle accelerator on December 11, 2013._

_Having been enhanced by the particle accelerator explosion, metahumans have a distinguishing feature that is their superhuman powers. This may range from time distortion to elemental manipulation. Additionally, a metahuman's powers are seemingly influenced by someting else they drectly encountered while being exposed to the partible accelerator, such as being struck by lightning that contained dark matter (giving electricity-powered super speed), or being submerged in liquid metal while the particle storm him (giving the power to transform into solid metal)._

_Due to their altered physiology, certain metahuman powers affect metahumans differently than normal humans. The emotional state of a metahuman also has an influence on their powers; reacting and strengthening when the metahuman is in a state of emotional stress._

As I read the file, I didn't even notice how my breath was caught in my throat.

I rubbed my eyes to see if I was dreaming or not. Why, I even pinched myself. But it was real, and there was no denying that fact.

My hands slowly drifted to the next file, typing bit by bit, still stunned by the fact that there was _such_ thing as metahumans- individuals with supernatural powers. Again, my breath hitched. I shook my head slowly. It was too much to take in. Superhumans were real. _Superpowers_ were real. If that was the case, then the Streak could be real. People could control elements, have telekinesis, superhuman speed, super-strength . . ._  
_

I swallowed the bile in my throat before rubbing my forehead with my thumb. Then, I decided to look at the next file- the list of known metahumans.

_Shawna Baez: Peek-a-Boo_

_Roy Bivolo: Rainbow Raider_

_Danton Black: Multiplex (deceased)_

_Nathan Bliss: Mr. Bliss_

_Farooq Gibran: Blackout (deceased)_

_Hydro Hunter_

_Clyde Mardon: Weather Wizard (deceased)_

_Kyle Nimbus: The Mist_

_Rajeet_

_Hartley Rathaway: Pied Piper_

_Joey Rose_

_Bette Sans Souci: Plastique (deceased)_

_Tony Woodward: The Girder (deceased)_

_Martin Stein and Ronnie Raymond: Firestorm (alive) (ally)_

My jaw dropped. Ronnie Raymond was dead. Everyone told me he was _dead_. _Dead._ Not alive. What was going on? What was S.T.A.R. Labs _really?_ It was labeled as hazardous. What was it really hiding? If Ronnie Raymond was still alive.

As much as I thought that would be the shocking highlight of my day, it wasn't, because the next name that appeared on the list made my hands fall down to my sides and my eyes widen the size of saucers.

_Barry Allen: The Streak/Flash (Status: Alive)_

_Cisco Ramon_

I zoomed past file after file, software after software, and website after website. All of which were of no avail. I shook my head in frustration.

"C'mon, Cisco," I muttered to myself. "Get back to the disco."

Caitlin sighed beside me, "Really, Cisco? 'Get back to the disco'?"

I shrugged, "It sounds nice."

She rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, " I _still_ don't understand how you were valedictorian for both high school and at your university."

I mocked offense, "Hey! _I'm_ smart!"

Again, she rolled her eyes, not saying anything as she went back to work.

Abruptly, out of nowhere, an alarm went off.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

I glanced at the computer adjacent to me. Someone was hacking into our system and looking up our files.

Panicking, I shouted for Dr. Well's attention (who, by the way, was in deep thought over something unknown to me and Caitlin).

"Dr. Wells!" I called out frantically. "Someone is hacking into our system and downloading the metahuman research and files we have! This is bad, Dr. Wells! Dr. Wells! Doctor?"

It took a minute before the said doctor snapped back into reality.

I sighed, still frantic, before reiterating "Someone is hacking into our systems, downloading the metahuman research and files we own. This . . . is bad. _Very_ bad."

Dr. Wells narrowed his eyes, "That _is_ bad. How did they get past our firewalls?"

I shook my head, "I don't know, but I _do_ know that we have to do something fast."

Caitlin poked into the conversation, "Call Barry."

I smacked my forehead, "Of course, Cisco! How could I forget?"

Caitlin deadpanned, shaking her head, embarassed that she even knew me.

Then, I dialed Barry's earpiece to tell him to return to S.T.A.R. Labs.

_Barry Allen_

I sprinted back to S.T.A.R. Labs within seconds. Cisco sounded so panic-stricken, I was slightly nervous. What was wrong?

The moment I stumbled into the lab, Cisco looked up from his screen in a frantic daze.

I looked around, both directions, before questioning, "Cisco, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Someone hacked into our systems and downloaded all of the files we had about metahumans."

"Snart?" I face darted straight at my peer.

He shook his head, "Untraceable hacker."

I slammed my fist against the metal table, "This is a big mess."

"I know," Cisco grimaced. "Captain Cold's being much more efficient in his work. He's a flipping genius criminal."

Dr. Wells commented, "Not helping, Cisco."

There was only silence in the room thereafter until Caitlin spoke up, raising her posture gradually, "Facial software just picked up on Snart. He's headed towards the Griffith Hotel near Jitters: Room 224."

"Barry, before you-" I heard Cisco say.

But I didn't hear the rest of his sentence. I was already out the door.

_Regan Williams_

I quickly exited the webpage. _Barry_, the man whom I told I didn't believe was the Flash, _was_ the Flash? My mind was an utter mess. First Snart, and now Ronnie and Barry. How was this sanely possible?

I then began zipping through files about how Barry's supernatural speed came to be. A lightning bolt, tainted with dark matter, from the particle accelorator struck him on December 11, 2013. Because of that, he was in a coma for nine months until just fairly recently. Since then, apparently, Barry began saving people in Central through the alter ego of the Flash.

It was surprising. Forensics by day, and vigilante by night. If this was the case, then our lunch outing earlier was . . . Gosh, he, the Flash, heard all my theories about him and (if there was) co.

I stifled an embarrassed laugh before deciding to do what I initially sought out for- Leonard Snart.

I read countless of files concerning the man. He was a criminal, yes, but he possessed the cold gun stolen from S.T.A.R. Labs, and he apparently battled the Flash several times at several different encounters.

As I was reading a file about the list of medical damages Snart's cold gun caused, the power went out, casuing everything around me turn pitch-black.

But the power outage wasn't the only thing was awry, because, before long, I heard someone chuckle wickedly, "My sources indicate that you've been researching about me . . . _Miss Williams."_

I was frozen in fear before I slowly turned around to face none other than the man I was investigating.

Before I could say anything, I felt something sticky clamp my mouth and a bag wrapped about my head. I heard ropes fumble before they were tied around my wrists and ankles. Then . . . I blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4: Of Truth and Lies

_Barry Allen_

I bolted towards the Griffith Hotel, not caring whether or not I would be trailing gusts of wind behind. After hours upon hours of searching, Cisco, Caitlin, Dr. Wells, and I finally got a lead to lock up Snart for good- a location.

The Griffith Hotel was less than five minutes away from Jitters, the place where Iris formerly worked at. It had modern rooming, beige wood furniture, high-tech lighting, and so forth. And the prices weren't half bad either. But that was beside the point.

Less than two seconds later, I bust through the doors of Room 224, only to find the lodging empty- wrecked and ransacked beyond belief.

_Regan Williams_

I had no idea where I was headed. All I _saw_ was pitch-darkness . . . All I _heard _was the brakes slamming and the gas pedal at full speed, and all I _felt_ were the frayed ropes tugging at my wrists and ankles.

My hands were tied behind my back, and I could barely feel anything. The ropes were gnawing at my skin, abrading my skin like chipped paint. As cheap as the ropes were, they hurt . . . _a lot._

The blindfold at my eyes was tied securely around my head. The knot of the fold gripped tightly against my scalp, as if it were to seethe through my flesh. Snart must have really kept his hideout a secret if he fastened my blindfold so tightly.

My thoughts ultimately raced back to Snart's files I had run through my computer. Did he take the laptop with him? That would've _really_ bad if he did, since the device was borrowed from the SCPD. If Snart was smart enough to track down whoever was tracing him on the Internet . . . Then he most likely had the capability to erase all files from the SCPD database concerning, not only him, but every other known criminal the Starling City Police force had ever encountered.

As much as the situation was dire, I couldn't do anything. My wrists were bound together behind me and I could feel the chains fastened around my ankles begin to pierce my skin.

Any police department one worked for was always required to teach their staff and faculty self-defense and clever nick knacks- even the janitors and the scientists in the forensics department.

If you were kidnapped and thrown into the backseat of a car, you would kick the corner of the glass window, where the glass had the least tension, and break it open and escape.

If your hands were tied in front of you (rope or plastic knotting paraphernalia), you would raise your hands above your head and crash them with force upon your knee.

However, I couldn't do either of the two. For one, I couldn't see, feel, or hear a car window nearby, hence why I didn't punch out any windows. Second, I couldn't break free from the ropes around my wrists using vertical movements without cracking my spine.

Suddenly, I felt the van slow down, eventually reaching a complete stop. I heard someone in the front seat take the key out of the ignition and open the car door. He exited the vehicle before slamming the door shut.

I could hear the person walk out on the gravel outside, his tread, heavy and sharp- like he was walking on ice.

Then, the trunk door slammed wide open. Gusts of icy winds crashed onto my bare skin. The warmth of the trunk van began to sift outside, gone in an instant. Now, all that was felt was the frigid cold that left trails of frostbite against my skin.

Thought I couldn't see anything, I heard Snart's distinct, passive voice echo in my ears, "You're going to go through hell, _dear_."

Add in that and the fact that I didn't know whether or not Snart had possession of my laptop or not to hack into SCPD redacted and local files?

I was screwed.

_Barry Allen_

I turned on the communication line between S.T.A.R. Labs and myself.

"Cisco," I called out my teammate's name through the earpiece. "The room's empty. You sure this is the right place?"

I heard furious typing from the other line before Cisco replied, "Yeah, Caitlin and I just checked . . . thrice. Snart was headed to that room. Are you sure he's not in the bathroom?"

In a blur, I busted the bathroom door open to only find it empty as well.

"Empty," I exhaled a frustrated sigh. "The entire room is empty."

There was silence on the other line until Dr. Well's voice was heard, "Is there a computer there, Barry?"

I took a quick scan around the room before I located a laptop stationed by a desk.

"Yeah, there is," I replied. "Why ask?"

"I think that might be our lead to Snart," Dr. Wells stated evenly. "Bring it back S.T.A.R. Labs. We'll scan the search history of the device as well as the documents factored in the system."

"Yes, sir," I responded with a nod, though the doctor wasn't exactly there to see it. "I'll run it back to the lab ASAP."

Dr. Wells added, "If there's anything else in the room that catches your attention concerning the Snart, run it to the lab as well."

"Got it," I replied before hanging up the com line.

I glanced around the room, looking around if there was any other evidence that could assist with capturing Snart, but nothing caught my eye . . . except one thing.

Before leaving the room, I grabbed the thing that caught my eye- the honey 'n' oats granola bars placed at the desk.

What can I say? I was famished. Besides, my quick metabolism would just consume its glucose, triglyceride, and monosaccharide contents in a jiffy anyways.

With a half-opened granola bar in one hand, I zipped out of the room and darted towards S.T.A.R. Labs with the laptop in hand.

Cisco plugged a USB cable in its correct slot before scanning the entire computer for viruses, malfunctions, and anti-software in case the computer was supposed to bug into the S.T.A.R. Labs computer systems. This _was_ Snart we were talking about after all.

"Laptop's clean," Cisco said, narrowing his eyes. "Which doesn't seem right, considering it's Snart's."

Caitlin scrutinized at the laptop, walking over to the contraption before plugging the hacking software to it.

"Finished downloading all the search history, files, and information yet, Dr. Snow?" Wells asked.

Caitlin typed a few things onto the computer for several more seconds before saying, "It's complete, Dr. Wells."

The said man gave a nod of his head, indicating that Caitlin could begin looking through the files of Snart's computer.

Up on the big TV screen of S.T.A.R. Labs displayed the documents on the laptop. It was weird, though. The files shown were about Snart himself- his criminal records, lists of people the CCPD knew he murdered, his biography, and several scientific files concerning him from S.T.A.R. Labs.

"Wait," I tarried, eyes widening. "How did Snart manage to hack into our system?"

Caitlin and Cisco gave each other looks as Dr. Wells massaged his chin- deep in thought.

"Why would he even _need_ the files anyways?" I questioned. "He's not metahuman, and he doesn't have the cold gun anymore."

Cisco's eyes widened, "Caitlin, are you thinking of what I'm thinking?"

Caitlin's eyes glanced both directions before replying, "Um, not exactly, no?"

Cisco deadpanned, "C'mon, Caitlin! At least _help_ me make this moment more dramatic!"

Caitlin, Dr. Wells, and I simply stared at the mechanical engineer.

He raised his hands in defense, "Just a suggestion. In any case, Snart is the analytic thinker. He's not just going to waltz up into his public files and read them. He already _knows_ them. Plus, Snart's no computer hacker, and he _definitely_ can't hack into our systems. Otherwise, he would've have done that a _long_ time ago. So-"

"The computer's not Snart's," I finished his sentence, frustration building. "We didn't get farther in the investigation at all."

Dr. Wells sighed, "Not exactly, Mr. Allen."

I scrunched my eyes before looking at the doctor, "How so?"

He pointed to the laptop with one hand, "If we can find out whose computer this is, we can deduce that, since you described that the hotel room was ransacked, Snart must have kidnapped whoever was in the hotel room. Since the computer files and search history showed that the user was looking up Snart's profile and history, we can say that Snart probably found out about it somehow and kidnapped the person so that he, or she, couldn't investigate any further . . . Just a theory."

"A _good_ one," Cisco commented in awe as he began typing furiously onto the keyboard. His hacking skills weren't as amazing as that of Felicity Smoak's, but it was still pretty good.

"Thank you," Dr. Wells gave him a small smile. "Cisco."

After giving his mentor one last meaningful look, he returned to his work, cracking firewalls and passcodes to the laptop's owner's personal information.

Technically speaking, this was illegal (hacking into someone's personal information), but it was for the sake of protecting the citizens of Central City, so it was . . . Worth it.

"Pass this firewall, that firewall, a small code in Python here, a small code in Marion there and . . . Bam! I'm in!"

"So whose computer is it?" I asked, curious.

Cisco glanced at the computer screen, scrunching his eyes up, before replying, "I don't know the person, but it says here that the name of the person is . . ."

"Is?" I pressured.

"Regan Williams. Ring a bell?"

_Regan Williams_

Pitter.

Patter.

Pitter.

Patter.

The steady rhythm of water droplets dripping from the sewers was heard.

I was pacing back and forth in my barred cell. You could see the cage's metal rods- splattered with splotches of rust.

The cell had been purely silent for several hours now. Once Snart tossed me in the cage, he left, and I haven't caught or arena glimpse of him since.

A sly one he was- always slipping and sliding though the gaps, tracing and tracking down those who wanted to pry into his personal life.

But there was something off about Snart . . . How did he get onto the path of darkness? Was there a reason behind his actions? What was the trigger for him being an evil villain?

There were so many unquestioned thoughts racing through my mind, I failed to notice someone enter the door. The person then stood on the other side the cell's bars, facing me.

"Snart," I narrowed my eyes at him the moment I realized who it was.

He flashed me a monotone smile, the ends of his lips barely tugging upwards, "Regan."

"What do you want with me?" I asked, passively grim.

After a beat of silence, the man snorted, "I don't need you for anything."

Anyone could see through _that_ lie.

"Oh, really," I deadpanned. "Then would you mind releasing me from this jail?"

He smiled smugly, "Yes, my dear, I _would_ mind."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Anyone can see you lying, genius. Now tell me why you _really_ want me here."

I straightened my back to appear confident and brimming with esteem, but _no._ Snart would find a way to counter those feelings.

This time, Snart fully smirked, flashing his white teeth in the process, "Hack into the SCPD systems and erase my files, would you?"

I scrutinized before chuckling lightly, feeling more helpless and helpless by each passing moment, "Like hell that would happen. Why don't we share stories instead? Why the black widow bites card all of a sudden?"

He still smirked, replying, "Oh, you _will _regret saying that. I already asked nicely, so here's the . . . _hard_ way."

With that being said, Snart walked out of the room to only return a few minutes later with a little girl, about the age of seven. Her what seemed like lively, blonde pigtails now looked drooped and wilted- damp and dead. Her play dress was splattered with mud and dirt. She was on the verge of tears.

In one swift motion, Snart pulled out a gun out from his pocket and pressed it firmly against the girl's head. She screamed in fear, as my eyes only widened in shock and terror.

"Now," Snart smiled passively at me before saying calmly. "Are you going to do as I say . . . or not?"

Needless to say, I gulped and nodded my head in a daze.

_Barry Allen_

"R-Regan?" I asked, tilting my head slightly downwards, walking over to where Cisco was. "Are you sure?"

Cisco inhaled a breath before exhaling deeply, fingers rapidly typing away at the computer's keyboard, "Positive, man. Why? You know her?"

The breath I inhaled was caught in my throat, "Yeah. Kind of. She's in the forensics department at the police department in Starling City. She came here today for a business trip regarding a similar case here in Central, and so we had to work together on some things, but why would Snart kidnap _her_ of all people?"

Cisco narrowed his eyes back onto the computer screen, "First of all, why does her computer contain files about Snart? Why was she so interested in the guy anyways?"

Beside him, Caitlin added, "Was the case she and you doing about Snart?"

I paused. It was, but I told her _specifically_ not to look further into the investigation. Crap.

I sighed exasperatedly, "Yeah . . . We were. The case I told ou about at work earlier? The one with the black widow bites? Yeah, that's it. But I told her _specifically_ not to look further into the case! I thought she'd listen to me."

Caitlin sighed, "That's _exactly_ the reason why there's scientists in the world. We all want to do what people tell us not to. 'Don't play with the rockets!' 'Don't experiment with Na3Cl57 acids!' Of course, we never listen. We do them anyways."

Cisco have his partner a look, "Uh, yeah . . . Not helping Barry's point right now."

Dr. Wells then put his input in, saying, "First off, do we know anything that can help us track down Snart or Regan?"

Silence enveloped the entire room.

I scratched the back of my head before sighing in defeat, "No, not really."

Cisco crossed his arms, deep in thought, before admitting, "Yeah, no. I got nothing."

"Could we try hacking security cameras again and go through facial recognition software?" Caitlin suggested.

Dr. Wells breathed, "If that's l we got, that is probably the best idea. Now get to it."

We all nodded our heads in agreement before scrambling to find any leads regarding Snart. For all we knew, he had Regan, and there was no way in _hell_ that I would let any one of my friends or acquaintances get hurt. _Ever_.

~*~~*~~~*~~~~**~~~~*~~~*~~*~  
_Regan Williams_

Type. Type. Type.

That was all Leonard Snart ordered me to do as he held a little girl at gunpoint.

"Done deleting my files yet, dear?" He asked me in a passive form of politeness.

I sighed, faking that deleting his files from the mainframe was impossible, "I can't do it without the USB drive I left in my hotel room. Now if you let me go get it . . ."

He narrowed his eyes at me, "If you're thinking that you can escape from me, you are sadly mistaken."

With a newfound surge of bravery, I replied, "Why would I? You're holding an innocent girl at gunpoint. What else am I supposed to do?"

Snart seemed to think about my response for a moment or two before responding, "Alright, but _any_ indication that you will contact any outsider will result in the death of not only yourself but this little girl as well."

I swallowed my fear, saying, "Yeah, I know."

Snart pushed me back into my hotel room before locking the door behind him. The little girl was still beside him- still at gunpoint.

He then began rummaging through the room, attempting to find the USB drive I possessed.

"Where is it?" he questioned passively.

I swallowed, "Bathroom drawer to the left."

He nodded his head before heading towards the bathroom. He released the little girl from gunpoint, and she immediately ran to me, enveloping me in an embrace.

Surprised, I hesitated before leaning down and returning the hug.

"I'm scared," she managed to squeak out, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Don't worry," I consoled her. "It's going to be fine. _Everything's_ going to be fine. Why did Snart take you away from your parents? Want to tell me what happened?"

She gulped down her hiccuping crying before stammering out through sobs, "I-I w-w-was with my mommy and daddy, and w-we were walking down a st-street when M-Mommy suddenly stopped and fell down. Daddy l-looked back and saw her o-on the ground, and s-so he went back to help her. And then I ran back to Mommy, but then everything went black. A-a-and that's all I r-r-remember . . ."

I held back a sharp inhale of shock. As cliche as the story sounded, it was truth, and I could do nothing but pity her. Snart probably had the mother injected with Black Widow venom before snatching away the little girl.

"Don't worry," I tried to flash her a condoling smile, tugging the stray strands of hair on her face behind her ear. "Everything is going to be okay. A happy ending, just like any other princess story."

She smiled, "I always wanted to be a princess."

I smiled as well, "You _are."_

I spoke too soon. Everything would _not_ be fine.

"Sorry to break up your little happy moment," Snart stated passively, returning with the USB device I asked for. "But we need to get back to business."

I stood back up, the girl's hand in mine, before replying reluctantly, "Indeed we do."

He gave me a smug smile, "Where's your laptop? I know that you must have _some_ information on there that could benefit me in the future. Where is it?"

I glanced about the room- to the desk, and realized that my computer was no longer there.

I returned my attention back to Snart, asking in a confused tone, "What do you mean? I thought you had it."

His smile quickly descended to a frown, walking calmly over to me and the little girl, snatching her away, and quickly pointing a gun to her head, "There's no use wasting our time here then. We're going back."

The moment we returned to the hideout, Snart forced me to sit down and work on hacking the SCPD database and erase all of his files from all local and international databases.

"Done yet?" he questioned me, still holding the poor little girl at gunpoint.

"Erasing personal files of _anyone_ for that matter is _far_ harder than it looks like in the movies," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

He narrowed his eyes on the screen, "Hurry. Pick up the speed."

I sighed, "Relax. I'm already going as fast as I can. Only problem I have is that I need Internet. I finished deleted local files _without_ the need for Internet, but to delete files on an international level is a whole other story."

That was a lie. I didn't delete _any_ files concerning Snart at all. Just the ones on my USB, which wasn't important. The local files weren't deleted, but I simulated to look like I did. Your play, Snart.

His eyes squinted at the screen before simply saying, "The Internet password is GoldenGlider."

I quickly typed in the password and connected to the Internet. The first thing thing I did was ask Snart, "Do you want me to delete the S.T.A.R. Labs files on you as well?"

He gave me a smirk, "Someone's being oddly cooperative. Alright. Sure. I'll be back. Don't do anything stupid."

With that being said, he handcuffed the little girl to a railing and exited the room.

I exhaled a sigh of relief before quickly hacking a _traceable_ hack into S.T.A.R. Labs. This way they could track down Snart . . . hopefully. If I read the files correctly, the scientists there contianed metahumans in their broken particle accelerator piplines, and that the Flash, a.k.a. Barry Allen, worked diligently alongside them.

I quickly entered the S.T.A.R. Labs database and quickly typed typed the traceable hack onto the digital base. I wrote:

_Snart location: North of Porter Lane. Take right at Boyd Avenue. Shack._

Was this worth the shot? I don't know. But that was my gut feeling, and gut feelings are usually right.

But I spoke too soon.

I felt a hand whip from behind me.

Snart snarled, "I _knew_ you wouldn't voluntarily volunteer to just hack into S.T.A.R. Labs for the heck of it. You can kiss the little damn girl and yourself goodbye."

With that being said, he snapped out his sleek, silver gun and pointed it at the little girl.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, I shouted, "Wait! Kill me first!"

Maybe the Flash could reach here in time to save the girl. That would be worth it, right?

He lowered his gun and gave me a glance and a smirk, "Dramatic much? But nice suggestion . . . I'll kill you _both_ at once."

Snart then pulled out his second silver gun from his waistband and aimed it in both directions- the little girl and myself.

I pursed my lips. I had to stall _some_ time.

"At least, before I die," I stammered out. "Tell me why you got on this path."

Snart closed his eyes, and for once in his life, he looked remorseful, as if he was drowning in regret and sadness. He lowered his guns.

He exhaled a shaky breath, "I had a sister once. She would often get me out of prison when I was thrown in the hell-hole. But, someone killed her. End of story."

Snart then immediately re-pulled out his guns and pointed them at our heads, "As much as it would be interesting to tell you my life story, this is just a stall of time. I need to take care of you two before the Flash emerges."

And he pulled the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5: The Scarlet Speedster

_Regan Williams_

I squinted my eyes shut as I waited for the impact of the bullet. After several seconds of nothing, I slowly blinked my eyes open only to see Snart on the ground, futilely batting a scarlet blur.

Wait . . . What? Backtrack for a second. A scarlet blur?

Out of the red blur, you could see a man- a man in a red suit . . . With a lightning bolt symbol on his chest.

"_No way . . ."_ I trailed off.

Snart was squirming on the ground, trying to get a good grip on his gun before shooting, but it wasn't like it was going to help anyways. The Streak, a.k.a. Barry Allen, would ultimately catch the bullet before he even fired it. It would be futile in the end. And it was.

Before long, Snart was thrashed to the nearest metal wall, and both of his weapons were tossed aside.

The voice of the Flash then rumbled in a flippant tone, "What do you want, Snart?"

It was as if his voice box was purposely quavering. Nice move, Barry. Very well played.

Snart wallowed the blood dripping down his chin, "Nothing, _Flash_."

Barry narrowed his eyes at the man he had gripped lethally against the wall, "_Snart_ . . . Don't make me do this."

Snart sneered, "Do _what_, Flash? You couldn't hurt a _fly_ if you wanted to."

The Flash then scrutinized at his nemesis, "Alright, Snart, you asked for it."

Less than a second later, Barry punched Snart at the cheek, and the man flew crashing against the wall- unconscious.

A moment later, I felt someone's presence beside me.

"You okay?" the Flash asked, concerned- his mask edging his face smoothly.

"Yeah," I breathed, slightly startled. "I'm fine."

The edges of his mouth curved slightly upwards, "Good."

"Thanks, Barry," I smiled warmly at him as I rose up on my feet, him helping me up.

The man before me then narrowed his eyes, responding, "You know, I told you not to look further into Snart and the case in general. Why did you?"

I gave him a pointed look, "Curiosity killed the cat."

He involuntarily grinned widely, "And satisfaction brought it back, but seriously. Tell me."

I sighed, glancing at the dimmed lights against the metal ceiling that hung overhead. Truth be told, it was quite obvious. Snart was a normal thief. World-class, yes, but he was quite the trite criminal. He simply stole and ransacked, so why was a mere forensic scientistso racked up about a loose criminal? And the lies Barry told me were so transparent, he would _barely_ be able to fool a child. Just _barely_.

"He was a normal thief," I told Barry, rubbing my hands together. "And you reacted so . . . weirdly. It was kind of obvious that you knew a _lot_ more than you let on. Besides, the 'higher-ups' you were talking about earlier . . . The SCPD captain isn't here. He's in Fawcett City, so . . ."

Taking his mask off, Barry had an embarrassed smile plastered across his face as he scratched the back of his head, "Was I _really_ that obvious?"

"Yeah," I chuckled. "You were."

Like earlier that day, we stood there awkwardly. Barry's hands were in the burgundy pockets of his suit, and my hands were rubbing against each other, suspended midair.

"I guess I can show you the place where I hide my Flash suit and get medical treatment from wounds," Barry told me in a slightly nervous tone.

I arched an eyebrow, "Don't you have super-healing?"

This time, it was Barry who gave me a pointed look, "How many redacted files did you go through?"

I gave him a laugh before responding, "A few."

He flashed that silly smile of his before saying, "I'll bring the little girl to her parents before getting you to S.T.A.R. labs. I won't take too long."

At the last phrase, I laughed. Of course, with his super-speed, he wouldn't take all that long, and he didn't. Because, after he whizzed past me in a red blur, the little girl in the corner was gone, and then the metal ceiling and walls ceased to exist.

_Barry Allen_

The moment after I dropped the little girl off at the police station, whose officers were frantically searching for the said girl, I raced back to Snart's hideout, grabbed Snart, cuffed him against a railing in the officers' louge, before returning to the lair and picking up Regan to S.T.A.R. Labs.

I zipped through the hallways of the laboratory before finally reaching the main atrium of the lab.

Once I set Regan down safely on the floor, I quickly changed out of my suit, into my street clothes, and hung up the suit in its appropriate mannequin.

"Woah," she trailed off. "That was _much_ more quicker than I thought it'd be."

I grinned, "I'll take that as a good thing."

She laughed, "Take it any way you want."

Behind us, Caitlin and Cisco were staring, eyes wide and mouths agape.

"She knows?" Caitlin stammered out.

"Or . . ." Cisco trailed off.

I fumbled about, hands shifting about in my pockets, trying to find the right words to say, "Uh, ye-eah . . . She knows."

Cisco also struggled to find the right words to say, "And . . . _how_ did this happen?"

I shook my head slightly, attempting a straight face, "She might have hacked our files earlier."

Cisco's head shot up immediately. The edges of his mouth curved upwards into a curious smile as his eyes widened in glee.

"Ah, the forensics hacker girl you work with!" he exclaimed in excitement as he walked over to us. "Cool!"

Caitlin grimaced, "And is Dr. Wells okay with this?"

"He won't mind," I shrugged the matter off.

"Actually," I heard a voice behind me say. "I think I do."

I gulped, before faking a white smile, "He-ey, Dr. Wells. What's up?"

I dragged out the 'hey' like I did with Caitlin back in the day when Cisco and I were caught red-handed doing vigilante activities. Yeah, it wasn't exactly the best idea to get on Caitlin's (or Dr. Wells', for that matter) bad side.

"I take that this is Regan," he rolled over down the side railing.

Hesitantly, I gave him a simple nod.

His handicap vehicle came to halt before Regan, Cisco, and I.

Dr. Wells clasped his hands together, elbows situated at the armrests of his chair, before finally speaking, "Interesting. Now, Regan, I hear you have worked with Mr. Allen here at the Central City Police Department today in the forensics sector. Is this true?"

The brown-headed girl beside me replied, "Yes, sir."

"And you are a forensics scientist originating from Starling, no?"

"Yes, sir. Born and raised."

"Do you know who the Arrow is?"

"No, sir. I have hunches on who it is, but no definite answer, but I take it that _you_ know?"

Dr. Wells seemed genuinely surprised, as he pushed up the rim of his glasses, "And how, Regan, would you conclude that I know the identity of the Arrow."

Regan responded in a heartbeat, "According to the boundaries of psychology, the human mind is often built in a manner in which questions are fired at someone to gain information, yes, but as you do so, _I_ am also the one who gains information about _you_, Dr. Wells. In those specific circumstances, I can conclude that, if I had taken the place of yourself, or impersonated you for that matter, I can say that you would initially ask questions you personally knew the answer to before asking questions you didn't know to gain a level or surge of confidence- you're more knowledgeable than the person you're interrogating, and so forth."

The scientist gave the young lady before him a look of approval, "Then I take that you have read _Blink_ by Malcolm Gladwell?"

Regan smiled the moment the doctor uttered the name of the book, "Indeed so, sir. Mr. Gladwell encompasses an entirely new level of ingenuity and mentalities that are unique to him and only him. His ideas are revolutionary of this age, it almost seems surreal, yet it captivates readers because of its relativity to mankind."

Dr. Wells rubbed his chin as he contemplated with a smile. You could tell that he was taking a liking to Regan.

While Dr. Wells was interrogating Regan, Caitlin, Cisco, and I had our eyes and ears glued to the conversation. It was almost too exciting for even words to describe.

"Think she's gonna join us?" Cisco leaned his head in my direction and whispered.

His arms were crossed across his gray, zip-up sweater and white, graffiti-emblemed t-shirt. His beige khakis were crumpled from sitting down and walking about the entire day.

I replied in a murmur, "I hope so. Regan'll be a great asset to the team."

"But doesn't she live in Starling City?" Cisco asked, arching an eyebrow.

I had forgot about that detail, for it was as if Regan had lived and grown up here in Central City all along. In the twenty hours that she was here, she had become such an integral part of, not only the CCPD, but my life as well.

"Yeah," I grimaced. "She does."

"That sucks, man," Cisco sighed, slightly saddened. "Not only is she a hacker, cough cough, hacked into the S.T.A.R. Labs mainframe, but she's totally hot as well. I mean, look at her."

I did as I was told. Cisco was right. Regan was incredibly beautiful . . . In my eyes, anyway, but she wasn't exactly drop-dead gorgeous either. She had dark brown hair, with several streaks of a lighter hue of brown scrambled in her hair. She was slim, but not _too_ skinny. Judging by the way her clothes fit her body, she was a runner and lifted weights from time to time. Her skin was not pale, but lightly tanned, not too tan either, and the tan shades signaled that she ran in the morning, when the sun rose, since her skin was most tan at her left side. That is, if she went for the runs in Starling at the Main Parkway Avenue.

"SAT scores?" Dr. Wells questioned, the interrogation still going on.

"2367," Regan replied in a snap.

"College education?"

"UCLA."

"Full scholarship?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hobbies?"

"Reading, writing short stories or classical music, and cooking."

"Where did you acquire your hacking abilities?"

"Queen Consolidated. A woman by the name of Felicity Smoak taught me."

There was a pause in the room before Dr. Wells continued, "Interesting. Now, if I offered you a job here at S.T.A.R. Labs to work alongside Mr. Allen and co., would you accept?"

Regan hesitated, clenching and un-clenching her fists at her sides, before replying, "That would depend on whether or not my boss would let me transfer. Captain Lance made me swear that I would return to the SCPD upon the termination of the investigation I am conducting at the CCPD. Now that it is technically over . . .

Dr. Wells interrupted, "You will also get the chance to work with the Arrow . . . Occasionally."

That proposal seemed the sway Regan's mind. However, it wasn't our, as in all of Team Flash, place to tell Oliver's secret.

I shook my head, "No-no-no, that's Oliver's secret, Dr. Wells. You can't just blurt it out for the world to hear."

Regan's eyes widened, "Wait, what? _Oliver Queen_ is the Arrow?"

Dr. Wells gave me a look, chuckling slightly that I gave away the identity so quickly.

I feigned not knowing anything, "Um, no. Why would you think that? There's like a million Olivers in Starling City. Pft. What are you talking about?"

This time, it was Regan who gave me a blank look, "Really? Because I once cross-referenced Oliver Queen as a suspect in an investigation. There's only twenty-one Olivers in Starling City, most of whom are small children and old men, so I _do_ believe that you are failing blatantly at lying, Allen."

After a moment of puffing my chest in confidence that Oliver Queen was _not_ the Arrow, I sighed in defeat, "Okay, he is, but don't go around telling people."

"Ha!" Cisco guffawed. "Look who's talking."

I scratched the back of my head embarrassingly, " . . . Sorry?"

Everyone in the room chuckled lightly before Dr. Wells continued to speak, "Well, Regan. I must say that you are highly skilled in hacking, and we definitely need a hacker here on this working unit-"

"You mean, Team Flash," Cisco interrupted with a silly smile.

The edges of the doctor's mouth curved upwards into a mocking smile, "Yes, Cisco. Whatever you'd like to refer it as. As I was saying, your abilities can greatly help this team on the long run, and your input can assist us in many more scientific . . . expansions."

Regan seemed to think about it for several moments before replying with a small smile, "I'll think about it."

Dr. Wells looked crestfallen.

She quickly said, "And don't get me wrong. This offer is _truly_ an offer of a lifetime. To work with _the_ Dr. Wells is . . . literally undescribable."

"You bet," Cisco muttered, commenting on the latter.

"But I have to see whether or not which situation- SCPD or CCPD- needs me most. If I may work at the CCPD as well, as forensics is my life's given passion, then I will take you upon your offer here at S.T.A.R. Labs. If not, then I am sorry to decline."

Dr. Wells nodded his head at the girl before him, "I am _sure_, Ms. Williams, that you will make the right choice."

Regan smiled, "Thank you, sir."

A bare silence engulfed the entire room before Caitlin finally spoke, "Was it just me? Or did the vocab of the entire conversation just vamp up about twenty times."

Cisco was the first and only to reply, "Something like that. Want to go grab coffee, anyone?"

Everyone else in the room looked at each other before replying in unison, "Sure."

_Cisco Ramon_

Barry, Caitlin, Dr. Wells, Regan, and I all strolled (literally for Dr. Wells) into CC Jitters for not only a cup of coffee, but to talk and converse as well. It wasn't very often that bunch of uber nerds got to meet up for coffee and rant on the randomest things, like the _Origins of Species_ by Darwin or, cough cough, the fricking _Flash._

Barry Allen was the _essence_ of scientific development, and the _epitome_ of a hero. What else was there to say about _the_ Barry Allen?

Once we all sat down at a table, a waitress came by to take our orders.

"Hello," she smiled. "Welcome to CC Jitters! What can I get for you all?"

I quickly eyed the _attractive_ waitress, awing her flawless figure, before saying, "The regular coffee, please."

"Would you want any sugar or milk with that?" she quipped, pulling out the pen from behind her ear to scribble down our orders.

"Milk would be nice," I replied. "Just a dash or two."

She smiled at me before turning to the rest.

"White chocolate mocha, hot," Caitlin ordered.

Regan requested, "Pumpkin spice latte."

"The decaf order," said Dr. Wells.

Barry was the last to reply as he zipped through the menu, "Uh, I'd like the extra large club sandwich, the red velvet cheesecake, and two cups of the regular coffee with a dash or two of milk."

The waitress gaped, "S-sorry, sir, are you _sure_ you want to order that much?"

Barry smiled, "Yeah."

Silence.

"Well, then," the waitress eyed Barry shamelessly. "I don't know how you can be fit or skinny as a stick. I'll be back with your orders in a jiffy."

The moment she left, the rest of us all turned to stare at the elephant in the room . . . literally.

"Barry!" Caitlin chided. "Freak-ass much? What's your bill for groceries every week?"

Barry twiddled his thumbs, before replying in an embarrassed tone, "Um, a lot."

Regan arched an eyebrow, "How much?"

He hestitated before responding with a softest reply ever to be heard on the face of the earth, "Last week was $963 . . ."

My mouth dropped onto the floor, "What the actual f=ma, Barry! You're a flipping hog!"

"Hey!" Barry raised his hands in defense. "I'm not fat."

"We weren't saying you were," Regan chuckled at the guy next to her.

Barry looked at her with the lightest of flushes, but even all scientific geniuses could see the slight change in hue.

I exchanged glances with Caitlin, before whispering in her ear, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "We already had this conversation before, Cisco. I _can't_ read minds!"

I deadpanned, still whispering, "Not in the scientific manner, Caitlin! I meant in a literal fashion!"

It took her a moment of observing Barry and Regan talk to one another softly and playfully before she finally produced an answer, "Yeah, I know what you're thinking."

I lightly sung under my breath, "Can you feel the love tonight . . ."

Caitlin slapped my arm before scolding, "Oh, shut up, Cisco, or the whole world'll know."

Dr. Wells then leaned in and put his input in, "If I do say so myself, Caitlin, the whole world _already_ knows."

The three of us laughed quietly to ourselves as we awated our food, and, maybe, just _maybe, _stole a few glances at the aspiring couple, but they just didn't know that yet.

_Barry Allen_

"So what did you want to be when you grew up, from when you were still a child?" I asked her with a silly grin plastered across my face.

She laughed, before pondering with that beautiful smile of hers, "Let's see if I remember it or not . . . Well, I used to be _obsessed_, not even kidding, with becoming a doctor, but I changed my mind to become a forensic scientist. The years in college was way too long and I liked mysteries, as they always intrigued me, so I decided to major in forensics. How about you?"

I shrugged my shoulders before replying with a shake of my head, "I always wanted to work at the forensics sector in the CCPD ever since my mom was murdered when I was eleven."

Regan's smile fell the moment she heard about my mother.

"My dad was sent to prison for her murder," I sighed. "But he didn't do it, I swear. I was there."

She scrunched up her eyebrows, "Then who did it?"

I shook my head, "Someone like me- a speedster. The killer was a yellow blur, and he stabbed my mother through the heart before framing my father. I was only there for half the time, since a moment later, I was twenty blocks away from the house. Hands down, it was the worst day of my life."

At this point in time, my hands were folded against the white, circular table. Offering her condolences, Regan placed her hand on top of my hands, giving me a small, consoling smile, and, somehow, it made me feel ten times better.

I glanced down at our hands before gazing directly in her chocolate-brown eyes. She was the essence of pure . . . Goodness. I don't know . . . I'm not exactly your typical guy material.

Before long, our orders came by, and I, for one, was famished.

I quickly took the tray of food carefully from the waitress before grabbing the sandwiches I ordered and biting into my food.

"Mm," I mumbled in bliss. "This sandwich tastes so good."

The other four people aroud the table stared at me blatantly.

"Really?" Cisco deadpanned as he took a sip of his coffee.

"What's wrong with you, Barry?" Caitlin chided. "Where are your manners?"

Regan and Dr. Wells exchanged funny and laughing glances.

After I swallowed my share, I replied, "What? My glucose levels are at an all-time low."

Regan chuckled, "Scientifically speaking, yes, Barry, we agree that you need to consume sustenance, but you're just so immature about it."

I dropped my sandwich onto my plate before raising my arms in defense, "Hey! I'm a growing boy!"

Everyone laughed unanimously at my reply.

"Mature," Cisco guffawed before muttering under his breath. "Very mature . . . Scarlet Speedster."

He said the nickname with a gigantic grin plastered across his face.

Caitlin deadpanned, "_Again_ with the nicknames?"

"Hey! You can never go wrong with nicknames!" Cisco raised his hands up in defense. "I flipping majored in it!"

There was silence before Regan and Caitlin purposely mocked a conversation, just to tease Cisco.

"I never knew there were majors in nicknames," Regan muttered.

"I know, right?" Caitlin mocked. "Do you know any classes that offer it? I'd love to take it."

Dr. Wells chuckled.

"Guys, guys, guys," Cisco deadpanned. "Relax, please. I get it now."

Everyone, including Cisco, then laughed for what seemed like the twentieth time today.

And it was then that I realized how much more vibrant the atmosphere was with Regan in the picture. She made everything happier and jovial, and I just couldn't imagine life without her.

It was weird, though, since I had always pictured Iris in my life in the future. But now, all I could foresee was Regan, Caitlin, Cisco, Dr. Wells, and I working together to fight crime and make the world a better and safer place.

But little did I know that none of that would be happening any time soon.

Some people were just not cut out to be in the same portrait as you when you wanted it to. Sometimes, it would take time- whether it be minutes or eons; while other times would be barriers that divided you from the person you wanted to be with.

But this time, I would be the unmasking of the person I admired and revered the most, and it would hit me like a force never to be reckoned with.

However, I was the Flash- the guardian of Central City, and some things were _bound_ to go against my way . . . And it did.


	6. Chapter 6: As I'll Ever Be

_Barry Allen_

I woke up the next morning to the "wondrous" sound of cars honking. My eyelids fluttered open hesitantly as the sun rays hit my pupils, temporarily blinding me. I slowly sat up, eyes weary, and my hand massaging my opposite shoulder. Needless to say, I was sleepy beyond belief.

Before long, my eyes shot wide open, reading the clock before me. It was 11:07 A.M., and I was late to work yet again.

"Crap," I muttered before scrambling about to get ready. I was already two hours late.

I mentally thanked the heavens for granting me supernatural speed. It made things all the easier.

Within a matter of seconds, I had already finished brushing my teeth, changing into appropriate clothing, and whatnot.

A pair of long khakis, a flannel, a gray sweater pull-over, and loafers . . . And I was out the door.

I quickly dashed down the porch stairs of the house before running, say about five miles an hour, before finally reaching the CCPD.

I pushed through the mahogany doors of the police department before I was confronted by none other than my boss himself- Joe.

I halted before him as the said policeman placed his hands at his hips irritatedly. Oh, boy, was he _mad._

"Where were you?" he asked straight to the point, not even bothering for a proper greeting.

I looked one way to the other, "Uh . . . I was . . ."

Looking back and forth from the corners of my eyes, I shifted uncomfortably before my adoptive father.

"Uh, I was . . . out . . . fishing," I blabbered out the first thing that came to mind before immediately regretting it.

Joe stared at me with a 'really?' look, "_Fishing_. You were out . . . _fishing._"

My gaze immediately fell down to the floor, finding sudden interest at my shoes, "Uh, yeah."

I scratched behind my ear, "I, um, hope that's okay."

Joe gave me a pointed look before sighing, dropping the subject as I always came up with some lame excuse for being late.

"You are one hopeless man, Barry," he deadpanned before pointing upstairs with one hand. "Regan is cleaning your pathetic, if I might add, excuse of a laboratory. You might as well help her."

I nodded my head in a heartbeat before rushing upstairs, slamming through the double doors of the laboratory.

The moment I rammed through the double doors, I noticed Regan jump from a light shock. We both stared at each other before she finally said, "Well, _someone's_ on time today."

I gave her a small laugh as I closed the doors of the lab, "What can I say? My . . . _night_ activities keep me up all night."

Another silence swept the room.

Regan gave me a look, pausing cleaning the mess of papers across my desk, "That sounded _really_ dirty, Mr. Allen."

My face flushed a deep crimson, "Th-that was totally an accident. I swear!"

She laughed, feigning disbelief, "Mhmm."

I rolled my eyes at her reaction as I set my satchel of supplies on my rolling chair before strolling over to where Regan was- by the PCR machines.

I leaned against the table with one hand as the other one rested against my hip. I gave Regan a nerdy grin before attempting more small talk, "So, you want to swing by S.T.A.R. Labs later?"

She chuckled, "I don't see why not."

I flashed her the largest grin ever seen on the face of the planet, "Great! We can leave the moment the clock strikes two."

She laughed, "Who even says that anymore, Barry? 'Clock strikes two.'"

I gave her a look before inadvertently resting my arm around her shoulder, "Uh, me? I do?"

She turned around from dusting the PCR machines to look at me straight in the eyes, "Wow. Oh, really?"

Her words were dripping with sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes yet again, "Yes, really, missy."

I pinched the bridge of her nose teasingly before we both broke out into laughter. I watched her dust the PCR machines as well as the desks, tables, and chairs in the laboratory before she remarked, "So . . . are you going to help me clean? Or are you just going to sit there?"

With a start, I quickly fumbled my way to the closet, took out a duster, and helped clean.

_Regan Williams_

Cleaning took forever, and, not to mention, I still hadn't told Barry when I would be leaving for Starling yet. But then again, I didn't want to sound . . . _Self-imposing_, you could say.

I didn't want to make Barry feel like he had to do something before I would leave, which he didn't.

I also didn't want him to feel like he _had_ to miss me since I just recently met him . . . Yesterday, to be exact.

Wow . . . It felt like I had been here in Central City for such a long time . . . And yet . . . It had only been a mere twenty-four hours.

I chuckled softly to myself, remembering how exasperated Captain Lance was when I left two days prior.

Truth be told, it was kind of weird to call Lance as 'Captain.' I had called him 'detective' for such a long time . . . I always forgot that he was promoted . . . Oops?

"_Later," _I told myself mentally. "_I'll tell him that I'll be leaving by the end of next week later."_

I put away the duster, still deep in thought, and barely noticed Barry walk beside me by the closet to put away his duster as well.

"Funny how I only met you yesterday," Barry murmured barely a whisper beside me. "And yet I feel like I've known you for . . . a long time."

From the corner of my eye, I noticed him look down at his feet, embarrassed. He shifted his gaze from his feet to the cupboard with abrupt interest.

I smiled ruminatively, staring thoughtfully at the duster in the mahogany closet, "Yeah . . . I could say the same for myself."

Barry smiled that usual, goofy grin of his, except, this time, it had more of a flustered edge to it.

He scratched the back of his head before suggesting, "We should probably check downstairs whether or not there are any cases that Captain Singh wants us to do. If not, then we could always work on the cold cases here at the CCPD, some of which, I believe that you'll find quite interesting."

I smiled, "Sure, why not."

With that being said, Barry led me out the door, and, like a true gentleman, he opened the door for me. I flashed him a smile (which he did return, by the way) before walking down the stairs with Barry trailing not far behind me.

We glanced at each other as we sprinted down the steps (at human speed), laughing along the way.

The other workers- policemen, investigators, detectives, et cetera alike- all gave us weird and odd looks before carrying on their work.

I was ahead (shocking, right?) of Barry as I sped-walked over to the main office. Barry shook his head- his usual goofy smile plastered across his face- as he lightly jogged over to where I was. He tugged my arm from behind, slowing me down significantly before entwining our hands together and then finally looping his arm over my head, so that his arm was resting around my shoulders.

Once we reached Joe's desk however, he released me from his (half) embrace.

"Hey, Joe," Barry smiled widely, leaning against Joe's desk with both arms. "Any investigations you need to have me run through?"

Joe gave Barry a pointed look, "Was that a pun I just heard out of your mouth, Barry?"

Barry squinted his eyes at his old man, "What are you talking about?"

"'Run through?'" Joe mimicked Barry's exact words.

It took a moment for Barry to process what Joe said before he finally realized what Joe meant. He then burst out into complete laughter, "Funny, Joe. Really funny,"

Joe rolled his eyes at his figurative son, "Your joke, man."

Barry nodded his head, scratching the back of his head, "I guess so."

Joe closed the manilla folder bundled with papers he was previously looking at before throwing the file down at his desk. He propped himself up from his chair by forcing his reclining figure from the chair with his arms pushing at the armrests.

He then rubbed his belly, teasing, "I need to go out to a gym."

Barry raised an eyebrow, "You're a police officer."

Joe gave him a look, "And?"

"You're already running from place to place in a jiffy enough."

Joe gave him yet another look, "Oh, and look at you."

His words were dripping with sarcasm.

This time, Barry was the one giving a look at his figurative father, "Joe. You're not fat."

"I never said I was," Joe mocked offense. "And are you calling me fat?"

I stifled a laugh in the background.

Barry's head snapped slightly back, eyes scrutinizing, "Uh, no. Pretty sure I didn't call you that because, for one, you're not fat, and for the other, that would be utterly rude."

Joe broke out into a laughing smile, patting Barry's back before turning his attention to me.

"Sorry, Miss Williams," he apologized. "I completely forgot about you for a minute there."

I waved the matter off, "There's nothing to apologize for, Detective."

He chuckled before asking, "Are you leaving tonight or next week, if I may ask?"

Barry turned abruptly to look at me- wide-eyed and slightly hurt, "You're leaving? Tonight? Why was I not informed about this? I thought we were best buds. I mean-"

"Barry," I cut my partner off. "I'm not leaving until next week."

He fumbled with his words, his hands gesturing all over the place, "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

I caught a glimpse of Joe looking repeatedly back and forth between me and Barry.

"Okay," Joe tarried the word before continuing. "Do you two want to grab lunch with me, Iris, and Eddie in ten? Or am I just going to end up being the awkward third wheel."

At this, Barry and I both laughed lightly. The atmosphere in the room quickly lightened up with the sunny rays that shone through the glass windows.

"You know," I chuckled. "For a father and an old-timer, from my observations, you look like the old-fashioned guy."

"True," Joe chortled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk.

I continued, "You sure do know a lot about modern language and mechanisms."

Barry stifled a laugh as he walked over to stand beside me, hands in his front pockets.

The detective guffawed, "Iris would teach Barry 24/7, quote quote, 'modern' language at home back in the day to assimilate him better into _high school society. _A hilarious endeavor, I might add."

Barry mocked a offense, hand slapped across his heart, "_Offensive_, Joe."

Joe chuckled, "I know you can take it."

Barry immediately rolled his eyes before taking his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms.

There was a small silence before Joe finally said, "Well, I'm gonna go get Eddie and meet up with Iris. You two coming? Or . . ."

Barry and I exchanged glances before finally replying in unison, "Sure."

~*~~*~~~*~~~~**~~~~*~~~*~~*~  
_Iris West_

I tapped my foot impatiently against the floor as I waited for Father and Eddie to come. They were already fifteen minutes late! And I was famished. I glanced at my watch for what seemed like the hundredth time today before folding my arms against the table- foot still tapping a steadily increasing rhythm on the hardwood floor.

It wasn't exactly nice to make a lady wait . . . to _eat._ Let's all admit one thing: food . . . is life. From Belly Burger fries to Jitters coffee, you name it . . . and I'll eat it (or drink it). I rubbed my forehead in anticipation before I noticed three familiar people walk through the door.

"Dad, Eddie, Barry!" I broke out into an immediate smile, now standing up from my seat. "Finally!"

I promptly went over to hug my father before kissing Eddie. Then, I turned my attention to Barry.

"You didn't tell my you were coming," I arched an eyebrow, still smiling, before I enveloped him into a hug.

After I released him, I noticed someone standing awkwardly beside him, "And who's this?"

Barry raised an eyebrow, seemingly not knowing what I was referring to before he glanced around him, suddenly remembering the young lady beside him.

"Oh," he smacked his forehead, embarrassed to have forgotten the girl beside him. "Yeah, this is Regan. Regan Williams. I was texting you the other about it, remember? Went out here at Jitters with her for lunch yesterday."

I grinned widely, remembering, before replying, "Oh, yeah! Hi! My name's Iris. Nice to meet you Regan."

I extended my hand for her to shake.

"I could say the same for you, Iris," the girl smiled warmly, shaking my hand firmly.

As if on cue, my stomach growled, signaling that we should get eating.

I flushed in embarrassment as I pointed down at our table, "Can we order now? Or . . ."

Everyone in the group laughed before all sitting down to enjoy what could be a _fabulous_ meal.

_Regan Williams_

"I'd like the chicken pot pie, please," Joe ordered. "And a cup of espresso."

"Regular coffee with a shot of skim milk," Eddie told the waitress. "Oh, and the tomato club sandwiches."

"The Caesar salad," Iris ordered with her gracious smile. "And iced green tea, please."

The waitress then turned her attention to me.

"Um," I pursed my lips. "I'll take the grilled chicken salad and a hot salted caramel macchiato."

She then turned her attention to Barry, before breaking out into smile, shaking her head, jotting down his order before even asking, "The usual, right?"

Barry smiled with closed lips, "You know me too well."

With that being said, the waitress left us be and exited towards the kitchen.

"So Regan," Iris immediately began the conversation. "Where're you from?"

I smiled nervously before replying fairly calmly, "Starling City."

She squealed in delight, "Ooh! That's where Oliver Queen is!"

Beside her, Eddie gave her a look, eyes literally yelling out 'what?'

Iris immediately laughed before kissing her boyfriend's cheek, "Don't worry, Eddie, I don't _like_ him or anything."

Beside me, Barry choked on air before 'coughing' it out.

Since these two were acting this way, the conclusion definitely was that Iris had a _total_ crush on . . . _Mr._ Queen.

Oliver Queen was the essence of hot male "buffness." He worked out a lot, considering the fact he was the Arrow and so forth.

I mentally laughed. I still found it funny how Barry sputtered that out in yesterday's conversation at S.T.A.R. Labs. He told his co-workers that it wasn't there place to tell me that Oliver Queen was the Arrow . . . and yet he inadvertently told me the Arrow's identity. Without a doubt, it was a memory I would treasure the rest of my life.

While Eddie and Iris were bickering, I turned my attention to Barry, sparking conversation.

"So, _partner,"_ I teased my fellow forensic scientist before mocking a European accent. "How's life faring?"

Barry gave me a look, "Is that your attempt to fake a British accent? Because you're awfully failing."

I laughed, punching him lightly against the arm, "Gee, thanks. It's not like you can do any better."

Barry grinned, "Oh, really? Watch me."

I crossed my legs, all ears on him.

"Back in the day, there were-" Barry attempted to mock a British accent.

Joe deadpanned beside me, "I swear, you two. You both are _horrible_ at mocking European accents. Don't event try."

I teased, "Are you trying to ruin my dreams, Joe?"

He laughed, "I sure am."

I chuckled.

His face suddenly turned serious, "I swear, though. I feel like I'm fifth-wheeling here."

"How come?" Barry asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"Eddie and Iris won't stop being . . . lovey-dovey ever so conveniently over there when they invited me for lunch with them today, and _you_ two, whom I thought would help me _not_ be a third wheel, end up gettling a long like a long-lost couple."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Barry waved his hands around in defense. "First of all, a long-lost couple is basically a finished relationship- literary-wise, and Regan and I have so much to talk about because, for one, we're both in the forensice department, and the other . . . you know. Code Red. Ooh, that's actually a legit code. Code re-"

Joe deadpanned, eyes boring straight through Barry, "Really? Please not here."

Barry immediately shut his mouth.

I suppressed a rising chuckle as Barry unconsciously rested his arm around my shoulders against the chair.

Barry smiled thoughtfully for several moments before his facial expression quickly turned upside-down into a frown, his brows furrowing.

"When are you leaving for Starling again?" he asked.

The sunlight that shimmered through the glass windows of Jitters faltered for a moment before regaining its former glory.

"The end of next week," I replied nonchalantly as possible.

He squinted his eyes before breaking out into a smile, "At least we still have more time together before you go."

I blushed.

He seemed to notice my discomfort, for he quickly made up for it, saying, "Oh. My. Gosh. My wording is turning into Fel- . . . Gosh, Barry. Get your act together. I _totally_ didn't mean it that way, Regan. I meant in the amicable way."

Barry rubbed his forehead creasingly before I laughed, replying, "No need to fret, Barry. Geez."

His face gradually returned to its usual, goofy smile, "Sorry, I just have these . . . moments."

I rolled my eyes, "_Everyone_ has them, Allen."

He chuckled before everyone at the table heard Joe say in relief, "Oh, _finally . . . _Food has arrived."

And I must say, those last three words were the best three words I heard for the entire day: food has arrived. Finally.

_Barry Allen_

__After a pretty uneventful lunch period with Eddie and Iris mainly giving each other the lovey-dovey talk, and Joe, Regan, and I talking about CCPD and SCPD codes of conduct, crime, and punishment, we all went our separate ways. Eddie called an early leave from work today so that he could spend the rest of the day with Iris; while Joe, Regan, and I headed back to the police department.

"Damn, am I stuffed," Joe ranted, rubbing his belly soothingly. "I just want to sleep now."

I chuckled, "Don't we all."

"Yeah, you bet," Regan muttered in agreement.

Joe said, "I was thinking about how we have an extra guest bedroom at my house. You could bunk in instead of staying and paying for your hotel room. Hotels cost too much nowadays anyways."

Regan seemed to think about the offer for a moment before replying hesitantly, "If it's not much of a hassle . . ."

Joe deadpanned as we continued walking back to the CCPD, "Of _course, _it's not a hassle, Regan. You're welcome any time. Barry bunks in his room from time to time too, considering he's still a dimwit of a child."

I mocked feeling offended, "Hey! I graduated summa cum laude, Joe. You only graduated from college with cum laude."

Joe deadpanned again, "Geez. Are you _trying_ to rub my failed college efforts in my face with your genius intellect?"

I paused for a moment, "Uh . . . No, not really."

Joe gave me a teasing look, "Good, because then-"

Right then, my phone buzzed violently. I quickly checked the device before picking up the call.

"Hello?" I answered the phone.

_"Barry, get to S.T.A.R. Labs now," _Cisco shouted frantically. _"There's an emergency situation."_

My eyes widened, "Alright. Cisco. Calm down. I'm on my way."

The line then went dead.

Joe's face turned grim, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head in a distressed manner before responding with, "I don't know. Cisco sounded very, very, _very_ panicked, though."

He deadpanned yet another time before ushering, "Then, what the hell are you waiting for? Get the hell over there!"

I nodded my head in a frenzy before taking a quick glance at Regan, "You coming?"

Her eyes bore through mine vacantly, "I _do_ believe you know the answer to that, Mr. Allen. I did already answer it this morning after all."

I rolled my eyes before taking her hand, nodding to Joe that I would be leaving, before heading to an empty alleyway to avoid anyone- pedestrian or driver- from seeing my abilities.

"Ready?" I asked Regan, picking her up bridal style.

She smiled nervously as she wrapped her arms around my neck as a precaution, "As I'll ever be."

I nodded my head, taking one last look at her to see if she would change her mind. Super-speed, after all, was a force to be reckoned with.

Then, I zipped through the alleyway and straight to S.T.A.R. Labs, wondering why on earth Cisco would be so distressed over something . . . he wouldn't even tell me.


	7. Chapter 7: Leprechaun

_Barry Allen_

Whiz.

I zipped through S.T.A.R. Labs in an instant before setting Regan down on the gray floor in (hopefully) one piece.

Once I came to a halt, I looked down at her in my arms (sounds funny . . . even almost romantic [not]).

"You okay?" I asked her, trying to suppress my grin.

She rubbed her forehead for a moment before giving him a look, "Scientifically speaking, wouldn't I have dissipated to dust by now?"

I rested my hands at my hips, giving her a short nod and a contagious smile, "Yeah . . . But the scientists outside of S.T.A.R. Labs don't know about me . . . specifically my supernatural speed."

She chuckled, "Indeed they don't."

We both smiled sheepishly at one another.

In the background from the hallway, we heard Cisco and Caitlin rushing over to the main atrium of the lab.

"Oh thank heavens you're here!" Cisco stated frantically as he ran over to where Regan and I were.

Regan and I immediately turned around to look at him.

"What's wrong?" I asked automatically, now in a serious mode.

"There's this-this-this," Cisco stammered out, flustered.

Caitlin helped him out, saying, as she walked briskly over to the computers to show us something on the projector, "This . . . short, stubby man dressed in . . . in . . . _green_ and robbing banks and on killing sprees and . . . and . . . kidnapping children. And he keeps saying some sort of phrase in front of the security cameras before disabling them! He's freaky!"

Regan and I exchanged looks before Caitlin dimmed the room's lights to see what the projector had to offer.

On the screen displayed a short, stubby man dressed in a dark green suit, under which was a white dress shirt and topped off with a black bow tie. His shoes were polished to a perfect shine that glinted against the lights, hanging from the ceiling bars. The room the man was in was gloomy, dim, and was a hue of tinted cyan. Simply put, the atmosphere in both rooms (the man in green's and the room I was in at S.T.A.R. Labs) suddenly became eerie and scarier by the second.

The man in green began knocking out the guards guarding what seemed like a bank vault before using his arms to break the security guards' necks. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Cisco and Regan cringe at the action. Then, the man in green began to shuffle about before snagging out an empty, large golden-glittered bag out from his pocket. He then began to snatch messily hundreds upon hundreds of bundles of bills from the vault, swiftly filling up his sack with millions of dollars. After his sack was filled to the brim, the thief tied the end of the golden bag up, tossing it over his shoulder effortlessly, before finally noticing the camera at the end of the room. He punched the wall with strangely brute strength, taking out red and black wires from the wall, before chanting something.

"Why, _hello_ there, _Central_ City," the man in green smiled eerily as he stated so in a notable Irish accent. "Didn't _see_ you there. Oh, you know, I was just . . . _stealing_ several million . . . dollars before making my escape. You know how those like me are . . . full of mischief and puns and misery. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to, they say . . . not like it has anything to do with the latter. But one thing is for sure:

You've run out of luck.

And if you're wondering about what to address me . . . _Leprechaun . . . exactly_ a leprechauncan do. Good night, Central City."

With a tilt of his hat and a somewhat manly curtsy, the man so called "Leprechaun" ripped out the wires embedded in the vault's walls, cutting off the camera's footage entirely.

_Regan Williams_

"So," I muttered out loud. "Leprechaun, huh?"

"Fits him right too," Cisco remarked uncomfortably, biting his pen. "And here I was about to give him the nickname of GreenMan. Or, or, Golden Viridescent. Or, oh! That tall, green man in those pea or veggie commercials . . . Er, what's his name . . . Green Giant?"

Barry deadpanned as Caitlin sighed audibly.

Caitlin remarked critically, "And was it just me? Or was the guy _totally_ blunt about the whole thing . . . I mean . . . He _literally_ just told us his name, objective, and motive for doing what he's doing."

Barry raised an eyebrow, "The motive being . . ."

Caitlin replied in a heartbeat, lips shrugging, "He's basically a psychopath."

Barry shrugged his shoulders as if to agree, before saying, "True."

"But," Cisco emphasized. "He's a _maniacal_ psychopath, meaning that he has to be pretty clever to elude all the police so far. Not to mention the fact that he managed to bypass cyber and physical security at Central City's most secure bank in the history of Central City banks."

"Yeah," I agreed reluctantly before shuddering at the memory. "Snapping the necks of those security guards . . . Not exactly the thoughts you want stuck in your mind."

"Yeah," Caitlin muttered under her breath. "Thank heavens there's still daylight outside, or else I would've died of fear."

Cisco teased nervously as he typed away at the computer board, attempting to hack into local satellite cameras and projections, "Mhmm, but don't worry . . . I'll protect you . . . Right?"

And I swear, in the next sixty seconds after those words were heard, crickets were chirping.

"Not a good joke," Barry stated his mind. "But okay . . ."

We all shuffled about nervously, before I asked, "Where's Dr. Wells?"

Everyone gave each other looks before Cisco muttered, "Very good question."

As Cisco was hacking, Caitlin rummaging the web for any previous cases regarding the so-called "Leprechaun," and Barry re-watching the recording of the Leprechaun's recent attack, I took the leisure of going out down the hallway to the bathroom, taking out my phone and researching what Leprechauns in general were like: their nature, likes and dislikes, habits, appearances, and so forth.

As much as I thought that Leprechauns were merely dandy midgets full of hubris, rainbows, and gold chips, they had a _much_ farther darker history than I thought they'd ever have.

_Leprechauns_

(According to the extensive study undertaken by Irish historians, professors, and analysts)

Leprechauns are devious faerie dwarfs, who make their "living" as a shoemakers (especially make loafers) by day and atrocious thieves by night. If caught appropriately, they are forced, according to Irish folklore tacit law, to grant you eternal luck and fortune . . . and three wishes. However, before they are correctly caught, they have the ability to turn you into a frog, or maybe even a fly at their very own wills.

It is said that Leprechauns have their own pots of gold, hidden and riddled deep in the Irish countryside. It is their life force, and if taken away, would cause extreme agony and pain, writhing for its life. However, if the life force is burnt, the Leprechaun will wither away to dust.

If one were to outsmart a Leprechaun, however, he would either have to be a genius, or he _will_ end up medically insane. Therefore, sometimes, it's not even worth _catching_ a Leprechaun. You'd much rather just pass the creature and move onward with your life.

_End of Text_

I stared at my phone, recalling what the Central City Leprechaun stated earlier (if he even _was_ a freaking Leprechaun).

_"And if you're wondering about what to address me . . . Leprechaun . . . exactly a leprechaun can do. Good night, Central City."_

The guy said, "_exactly a Leprechaun."_

Would that mean that all the attributes were the same? If conveniently according to this website?

I quickly rushed my way back to Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco in the main lab.

"H-hey, guys," I stammered out. "I think I have a . . . a theory."

Everyone's head turned my way, staring at me expectantly to say something.

"I looked up this, um, random website," I began my little speech, tousling my head nervously.

I was new-ish to the team, a mere contender/consultant. Why, I hadn't even accepted the job offered by Dr. Wells yet, but this theory of mine just seemed so surreal . . . yet . . . real.

"And I found a few attributes concerning Leprechauns— myths, if you will. And, if I remember correctly, the thief stated that he was '_exactly _a Leprechaun.' This probably means that he gave us a hint, probably to grasp on. According to the files I've read, scratch that, _hacked_ about Central City and their . . . _odd_ sorts of cases, you've had a Trickster from the '90s . . . Roy G. Bivolo . . . Clyde Mardon . . . and so forth. All of them have had to do with their specific names. According to the S.T.A.R. Labs files I've read, however, Roy G. Bivolo's name had the colors of the _rainbow_ freaking stuck in it. And, big 'surprise,' that's his superpower. And then Clyde Mardon . . . He was in an airplane when the particle accelerator blew up . . . and, then, he comes back a year later to have weather precipitation powers. Is this just a coincidence? No, it isn't, but you three all probably already know that."

The three of them nodded their heads, before Cisco nodded his head, "Yeah . . . just get to your theory . . ."

I did as I was told, "All of these guys have been _asking, _or literally _begging_, for attention. It's probably the case for this Leprechaun guy too. Leprechauns are shoemakers, who specifically make loafers, as their front, and thieves as their true nature. This Leprechaun guy might as well be a regular old loafer-maker guy as _his_ front, but he secretly thieves by night.

My source also tells me that Leprechauns riddle their pots of gold in some sort of cache. Gold was the currency back then, but, now, the currency is paper dollars and bronze coins. So . . . He's probably hiding it somewhere of the sort. Leprechauns are bound to their pot of gold, so if the gold is destroyed, they fade to dust . . . in the myths. In this case, it probably means that, if we take away his entire cache of money, he will have no more left, since that's _all_ the money he keeps to live, so he technically 'dies.'

There was this case several times in Starling City, where this creepy Vertigo guy would sell his drugs on the streets. The drugs, if applied directly into the bloodstream, would cause the victim to hallucinate and eventually become medically insane. It's probably the same for this Leprechaun, except, maybe he'll use clovers or whatever instead."

Barry, Caitlin, and Cisco just stared at me blankly.

Cisco grimaced, "No offense . . . Nice theory and all . . . but . . . it's all based on a myth. There's no . . . no . . . no . . . _science_ behind it, you know?"

Caitlin bit her lip anxiously, as if she was afraid to respond to my theory, "Sorry, Regan, I have to agree with Cisco on this one . . . As much as it . . . makes _somewhat _sense . . . there's no evidence to back it. We're scientists . . . _lab_ people . . . History-based theories just don't . . . _flow_ with us."

Barry wrinkled his nose, before hesitantly agreeing with his teammates . . . in just differently-worded phrases, "Um, let's think of another theory, instead. You know? Just to have a taste for all the possibilities."

Right after those words were uttered, the voice of none other than Dr. Wells flooded the metallic room.

"Regan? A moment please?" the Doctor spoke serenely. It almost seemed as if he were speaking at my funeral.

More than ready to get out of the room, since I was basically just humiliated by three, of whom I thought were, friends, I followed Wells outside the main lab and into the corridor.

"Yes?" I asked him as he walked me to the elevator.

"I take back my offer for you to join S.T.A.R. Labs," he crossed his arms.

I was taken back. What? My science idol just asked me to join his team yesterday . . . and he's already taking back the offer?

I was at a loss for words, "Wh-why? May I ask?"

How come? I go to the bathroom, and come back . . . everything around me changes? Barry and the others suddenly don't like me, and . . .

He sighed, exhaling a deep breath, "I thought that you would work better with . . . Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin yesterday, but I was wrong. I was watching from outside the lab and noticed that your thought process compared to Barry's, Caitlin's, and Cisco's is . . . not to be outright rude or anything of the sort . . . not as _revolutionary._ The entire concept of meta-humans was considered surreal and impossible before the particle accelerator erupted. Now, look, at every other corner of the street of Central City, there might be a supernatural-powered human being, who's DNA is genetically re-structuralized into an entirely compartmentalized helix of unorthodox and innovative change. I don't think your mind is adaptively able to change your way of thinking to theirs. Sorry, Regan, I just don't think that this will ultimately work out . . . for both of our sides. Now . . . if you will leave and not say a word about Barry's alter ego existence to the world . . . oh, right, either way, just like that Leprechaun theory you just spluttered out . . . would be . . . _medically, inducibly . . . insane."_

I had no words to reply, as Dr. Wells tossed me my purse and gave me a mere wave of the hand, a goodbye, I suppose, before turning his wheelchair around as the elevator door in front of me was closing . . . but I couldn't help but catch a twitch of his foot move from the edge of his foot pad.

_Dr. Wells_

Once I had taken care of Regan, I quickly returned to the lab, where I stationed none other than Roy G. Bivolo himself by the door, lightly manipulating the emotions of Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin to sputter out meaner comments to Regan than intended.

I had to get rid of Regan. I had no other choice. If the future was to remain intact, I had to have complete control of _every_ scenario. She was the variable I didn't expect. I had only wanted the team to simply consist of Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin . . . And Regan was the factor I did not anticipate. I had to get rid of her. No matter what the cost. Now, if I put up her hopes for getting a position at S.T.A.R. Labs and crushed it, it would ruin her. Also, if I turned Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin against her . . . the effects upon Regan would double dramatically, and she would not desire any contact with either Cisco, Barry, or Caitlin. Emotions . . . it is so interesting how something invisible such as this . . . can be the sole factor to crush someone at its finest.

I rolled over to Bivolo, who simply stood there, shortly chained to the wall's railing.

"You promised me that I would be able to leave after I took care of your team," he snarled. "I want out now."

I looked at him calmly, "About that."

With that being said, I took out a shot injector from my wheelchair's pocket and admired its content. Violet liquid strained the cubicle of the injector.

Bivolo raged silently, "Wh-what is that? Where is my freedom?"

"One question at a time, Bivolo," I chuckled heartlessly. "Fifty milliliters of barbiturate Penothal . . . It induces medical-purposeful comas, that should last . . . twenty-four hours. And, not to mention, you will forget everything you have done in the last hour, my friend, thanks to an additional ten milliliters of atorvastatin."

Bivolo stared at the injector, "You wouldn't do that to me. I just helped you."

I smiled at him contently, "Which is exactly why I won't just kill you here and now."

"No, you can't kill me," he muttered. "Your team will find out that I somehow, strangely die, and probably will . . . investigate it . . ."

"Exactly," I smiled at him, angling my fingers to stab the man before me in several seconds. "As clever and un-useful to me as you are . . . I still need you alive."

Then I inoculated Bivolo with the concentration, rendering him unconscious several moments later, crumpling to the ground like a host doll in a toy store.

With my super speed, I quickly ran him to the pipeline, locking him up, before returning to my wheelchair in the corridor before the main laboratory.

Subsequently, I entered the main lab to only find that Barry, Caitlin and Cisco were still recovering from the effects of Bivolo's mental manipulation.


End file.
